


The Art of Dating

by flutterby_cupcake_26



Series: Artist/Billionaire [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist!Dean, Billionaire!Castiel, Charlie Bradbury is a Winchester, Community: deancasbigbang, DeanCasBigBang2016, Destiel - Freeform, Gabriel and Balthazar dream team, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Skinny Dipping, dcbb2016, rent-a-date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 40,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flutterby_cupcake_26/pseuds/flutterby_cupcake_26
Summary: Dean Winchester can create beautiful works of art with metal. He's been featured in Time magazine. He's won awards for his creations. And now he's preparing for a show at a local gallery, showcasing the best of his creations.During preparation, a distraction in the form of an attractive businessman appears. Swayed by his good looks, Dean agrees to see him at a series of galas, networking events and more. The deal is sweetened by the promise of money, and the revelation that this businessman might just be the elusive billionaire, Castiel Novak.As the art show draws closer, and Dean gets to know Castiel better, will he realise the true cost of the money?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, it's posting day! I hope you enjoy this story :)
> 
> Major thanks as ever to Cliophilyra for betaing this, for going over it and over it and addressing more than a few plot bunnies, even though she wasn't able to participate in DCBB this year. She's an amazing beta, and very patient with me when I still ignore her advice (sorry!)
> 
> Big thanks as well to silverink_58, who has done all the artwork for this story. I am floored by her talent, and amazed that this is her first DCBB. I honestly think her artwork is the best thing about this story. She deserves all the kudos :D it's been great getting to know you for the last couple of months, and I hope we stay in touch after the challenge x

Dean picked up his sandwich, and bit down on it with a groan. Sam had done well on the lunch run today. It was a rare day where the meatballs were still warm by the time Dean remembered there had even been a lunch run.

 

Even better, today Sam had even gotten a side of freaking pie. There was a giant slab of lemon meringue to follow up the meatball sub. Like a reward for progressing with his latest work. Yep, today was a good day.

 

He’d been working hard on his latest sculpture, lost in the details that he was trying to build up into something beautiful, when Charlie had reminded him that he had to eat. He was grateful that he had actually heard the reminder from his little sister this time.

 

Dean was pretty happy with the way things were. He had recently won a major art prize, he was popular enough be able to charge a decent amount for his work - enough to convert their garage into his own studio and be able to pay Charlie to pretend to be his PA, but still new enough to the art scene that he wasn’t being inundated with commission work. It felt good to get up in the morning, come down and beat metal into shape until one of his siblings brought him back to the real world.

 

Right now he was alone in his studio, just him and his sandwich, having their moment. Charlie was busy in the office, sorting out paperwork and playing games online, and Sam had probably gone back to his office a few blocks away. He loved the studio, even though Sam regularly called it a death trap with all the supplies and equipment interspersed by his creations. He mainly worked with sheet metal, and steel rods. His interest in creating with the materials had come from an internship at a garage where he discovered he had a knack for bending dents out of the car frameworks. Now he was surrounded by a man made entirely of different sized cogs who was mid-run; interlocking steel girders that had taken ages to bend into an almost cuboid shape, the beams overlapping each other without any cohesion to the pattern. There was a tangle of coat hangers suspended from the ceiling in the shape of a hot air balloon, and a half-finished collection of car engine parts that he was trying to mold into some kind of vehicle. And his latest project, a homage to his mother. The project he had stopped working on in order to eat.

 

Dean had gotten about halfway through his sandwich - double cheese as well; there must have been something up with Sam, normally his brother sucked at remembering what Dean liked - when Charlie walked into the workshop area of the studio, talking in her normal upbeat, rapid way to whoever was with her. Dean couldn’t see who it could be through all the twisted metal.

 

“And this is where the magic happens! Dean is here somewhere. He’s been working towards the upcoming show at the local gallery, so if you’re looking for a commission piece you might have to wait. I don’t want to yell for him, he works with some pretty sharp stuff so accidents could happen. I’m sure when we find him, he’ll give you the tour.”

 

Dean left his lunch on the bench regretfully, and moved through the cluster of his work to find his younger sister in her brightly colored clothes that only highlighted her bright red hair - and matched her bright personality - peering around the piece comprised entirely of cogs. There was a man with her, standing with his back to Dean.

 

“Hey,” Dean said softly. The man turned first, looking faintly surprised. He was handsome in a preppy, well-dressed sort of way, with bright blue eyes and messy dark hair. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. He was gorgeous, and definitely Dean’s type. He had to force himself to focus, to remember that this man was a client. Probably some manager looking for artwork to decorate his office, by orders higher up the hierarchy. Charlie whipped around a moment later and beamed at him.

 

“Hey! Potential buyer,” Charlie nodded at the guy who smiled, but said nothing. Dean leaned against one of the more solid pieces, the interlocking steel girders, and folded his arms, waiting. Trying to play it cool, and not show how much he was already attracted to this man. Charlie rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Dean, play nice.” She turned to the mystery man. “Ignore his moodiness. He’s a _serious_ artist.”

 

She skipped away, leaving Dean with the guy, who hadn’t even tried to introduce himself. Instead, he was looking at the cog sculpture again. He reached out a hand to touch the curve of the statue’s elbow, and Dean cleared his throat. Charlie and Sam loved touching that one too, always in the same spot. He didn’t know why, but it drove him absolutely crazy, especially as that was the only part he couldn’t reinforce.

 

“That’s seven thousand dollars. You break it, you bought it.”

 

The guy retracted his hand, and turned back to Dean.

 

“So, why are you interrupting my work?” He cringed internally. Maybe Charlie was right, maybe he sounded too moody. It was an unintentional consequence of trying not to flirt.

 

“I was interested in getting a new piece from a skilled craftsman. You come highly recommended. Your assistant said it would be possible to look at some pieces that might be suitable.”

 

“Sure you can afford me?” Dean quipped. The other guy gave a small smile.

 

“I’m sure I’ll find something in my price range.”

 

“Well, I guess if you can fuck about with a sculpture worth seven thousand dollars,” Dean shrugged.

 

“It’s intriguing.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Dean didn’t have much time for anyone who thought they could throw out buzz-words in an attempt to sound knowledgeable. Even if they were one of the best looking guys he’d seen in a while. ‘Intriguing’ was up there with ‘challenging’ or ‘revolutionary’.

 

“I like the steampunk influence. Embracing the modern while looking back at the past, while utilising the materials you have to hand. I like that you use a relevant material to help tell the piece. Especially with the man running … I was just wondering how you managed to defy gravity so easily with it.”

 

“So, you want that one?” Dean ignored the bullshit. Even if it was accurate bullshit. His mind was back on his half-eaten sandwich. And the pie. Oh God, the pie was going to taste so good.

 

“Perhaps. If there’s nothing else that catches my eye. Is there anything you recommend?”

 

Dean shrugged.

 

“Anything I made in this room with a price tag. But if I made it for the gallery, you’re going to have to wait for it.”

 

“That sounds reasonable. May I look around, or will you show me some pieces?”

 

Dean was annoyed that his meatball sub was once again going to be cold by the time he got to it, but he wasn’t stupid enough to chase away a sale, or be totally rude to this Adonis. He stood up and thrust his thumb at the nearest completed work.

 

“There’s this one, or that one,” he nodded to the cog man, and started winding his way through the studio, around his lathe and acid baths and sculptures and hammer collection. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the man looking at each tool with slight trepidation as well as admiring the artwork.

 

“Another one,” he pointed up at the piece made from bent coat hangers that was suspended from the ceiling. “Collection,” he pointed to the sculptures made of engine parts. “Any time you wanna tell me it speaks to you, go right ahead.”

 

“Your assistant normally takes care of sales, doesn’t she?” The man said wryly.

 

“Apparently I have negative energy. Of course, this comes from the girl who likes to play dress up at the weekend in the local park.” Dean shrugged, and rounded a glass work, eyeing his lunch ten feet away. God, it still smelled good.

 

“What about this?” The other man sounded unsure. Dean turned and saw him admiring the glass piece. It had taken him forever to learn how to manipulate and color molten glass. Eventually he’d created this piece; an abstract red heart suspended by clear whorls of glass that fed into a translucent glass cage. It was one of his most personal pieces, and Dean hadn’t yet slapped a price tag on it. He rarely wanted to keep his creations, but this one was a little different.

 

“What about it?” He tried to sound off-hand. Maybe if the guy started chattering about the fragmented image of the heart within the cage and the fragility of the glass or all the other bullshit that of course Dean had considered when creating this piece, he could sneak over and grab his sandwich, choke it down while the guy talked about its commentary on the fleeting nature of emotions and the human condition. Or whatever other crap Sam had used to describe it when he was securing the heart inside.

 

“It’s different. Not metal. I like different.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Would this be out of my price range?” The guy asked innocently.

 

“I haven’t priced it yet. What do you think it’s worth?”

 

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t want you to laugh me out the studio by going too low, or too high.”

 

Ugh, could this guy not just let him eat already? Losing his patience completely, Dean gestured to the table. Which, granted, he had made.

 

“If you’re shit out of cash, there’s this piece. I call it ‘starving artist’s lunch’. Four hundred dollars.”

 

The other guy gave a small smile.

 

“I interrupted your meal, I’m sorry. For what it’s worth? I don’t think Subway would let you get away with hijacking their brand.”

 

“Probably not.”

 

“I’ll leave you to your lunch, and continue looking around, if that’s okay? If you trust me.”

 

“Can you tell the difference between equipment and art?”

 

The client smiled easily, scratching at a spot behind his ear and somehow messing up his hair more than it already was. It was kind of endearing.

 

“I’ll manage. But you might get lucky and sell me a soldering iron for a five hundred per cent mark up.”

 

Dean swallowed down a smile as he sat back at the table, and dug back into his now cold sandwich. The guy, whoever he was, was actually pretty funny. And cute. But Dean couldn’t enjoy his meal as much as he had been, and not just because it was now cold. He was hyper aware of this guy picking through the workshop and potentially breaking something valuable. And sure, the sweater looked expensive and the guy had on some cologne, and his hair was all shiny, but Dean didn’t want to think about how much damage one little fall could cause, how much it would cost either of them. He carried the sandwich back out amongst his creations and sought the guy out, finding him in front of his latest project, a half-made person comprised of iron curlicues.

 

“I like this one.”

 

“It’s not done.”

 

“I like its potential.”

 

“It’s going in the show.”

 

“I can wait. May I have this one?”

 

“It’s going to cost you.”

 

They stood either side of the iron figure. Dean took another bite of his sandwich as the other man gave a small smile.

 

“Isn’t that the point? That your sculptures cost money?”

 

“I’m thinking this one’s going to end up nearer ten thousand. So if you got the green, you can have it.”

 

“After the show.”

 

“Mmmm.”

 

The stranger looked down at the iron swirls, which came up to their waists, the rest of the form looking strangely empty without the adornments.        

 

“I have a proposition for you, if you would at consider it?”

 

Dean swallowed his mouthful hard, and waited, not giving anything away.

 

“I have a series of functions coming up that I’m unable to get out of. If I could, I would. I’m normally fairly successful at escaping these affairs. But on this occasion, it’s unavoidable, and I’m expected to turn up with a guest. Would you consider coming with me?”

 

Dean froze as he lifted the sandwich for another bite. This guy was hitting on him? Or was he reading it wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time he thought he had a chance with a guy and it turned out he was mistaken. Like with Benny. That still hurt, Benny’s rejection, and Dean’s complete misunderstanding of what had been building between them. The guy was clearly desperate for some help, that was all.

 

“I promise not to make any advances, I promise that there will be highly influential people there who would pay for your artwork. Even if they would use terms like ‘a commentary of our times’. I just … I have the feeling you won’t allow me to get stressed while I’m there. I like your sense of humor.”

 

Dean was left wondering when exactly he had shown his sense of humor.

 

“You want to go out with me?” He said skeptically. Sure, this guy was hot, and Dean was more than interested – despite his rumbling stomach – but it seemed too good to be true that this guy was attractive, had taste in art, could afford his work and wanted to go out with him too. Maybe he was dreaming.

 

“Essentially. I’ll pay you, if that convinces you?”

 

“And you can afford to do this _and_ buy my art?”

 

The other man hesitated, then leaned closer to Dean, almost pressing against the sculpture.

 

“I can afford a lot of things, Dean. I wouldn’t need you for all the functions, my friend Meg has volunteered to come to some things, but her schedule doesn’t allow for all of them, and I’m in a bind.”

 

Dean snorted.

 

“I’ll give you ten thousand for every day I need you.”

 

“Ten thousand dollars?” Dean sounded dubious. Who could drop that kind of money on a favor?

 

“Twenty thousand then.”

 

“I’m not haggling.”

 

“And I said, I’m in a bind. Would you agree to fifty thousand for each function?”

 

“You’re kidding, right? You’ve got to be joking.”

 

“A hundred thousand.”

 

“Stop saying numbers at me!”

 

“A million dollars. For each date.”

 

Dean snorted in disbelief.

 

“You’ve got that much?”

 

The guy cringed, and muttered something too quietly for Dean to hear.

 

“What? Didn’t catch that.”

 

“I have substantially more than that. That’s why I’m able to offer it to you. I’ll provide a tailor in the next couple of days to get you a couple of suits. You just need to stand with me, talk to me, avoid direct questions about whether we’re dating and talk me out of killing my brothers for making me do these things.”

 

Dean snorted again, returning to the sandwich.

 

“Millions of dollars and multiple brothers. What are you, a Novak?” He paused, just as the sandwich touched his lips and looked at the guy again. Picking out the color of Michael Novak’s hair. Luke Novak’s eyes. Gabriel Novak’s wry smile. And … okay, thankfully there was nothing of Balthazar Novak about this guy. But all this meant only one thing. “You are, aren’t you? The mystery Novak no one knows shit about. Callie?”

 

“Castiel,” The other man corrected in that small voice. “Does that change matters?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean … wow. You didn’t tell Charlie, it would have been the first thing she’d blab about.”

 

“No, I didn’t. I anticipated that might be the outcome.”

 

“Why me?”

 

“Because the entire time we’ve been talking, you’ve been more interested in your sandwich than in showing off your achievements or your client base. I realize that it might be awkward, that you might not … I mean …”

 

Castiel broke off, rubbing the back of his neck, and Dean shrugged.

 

“That I might not be a stereotypical artist?” Dean supplied, and then took a bite of the sandwich.

 

“You do have the temperament.”

 

Dean chewed his mouthful and contemplated Castiel’s offer. He didn’t really believe Castiel’s offer of the money. If it really even was Castiel Novak. Sure, he could always do with the money, if it existed. It would write off his own student debts, and Sam’s. It would keep Charlie in cosplay and Comic Con’s for life. And Castiel Novak was surprisingly not an asshole. Dean didn’t follow the family avidly, but Michael and Luke were always cutting business deals and swanning around in the press like they owned everyone, while Gabriel and Balthazar were the party brothers, pissing their fortune away in various nightclubs and vacations with a crowd of good-looking women and once or twice, a few guys. It didn’t matter what magazine or newspaper you picked up, be it Sam’s copy of Forbes or Charlies gossip rags (Dean had read them both in the can) a Novak was always there. But this brother rarely got a mention, although there was always excitement if someone caught a blurry glimpse of him in the back of a photograph. There was something intriguing about being allowed into this guy’s world. And Dean wasn’t going to lie to himself, if this really was Castiel Novak, he found him damn sexy. Even if the money was a lie, the chance to go out with this hot guy was tempting. He was worth the ruined lunch.

 

“So, you’re basically paying me to be your friend.”

 

“Offering an incentive,” Castiel corrected. Dean nodded.

 

“You don’t get a discount on the sculpture. Still ten thousand.”

 

Castiel smiled at this, although by now Dean was starting to expect it.

 

“You don’t get to talk to people about whether we’re really dating. Even your inquisitive assistant.”

 

“For what you’re offering, you can have her kidnapped.”

 

Castiel thrust his hand forward, around the sculpture.

 

“Do we have a deal?”

 

Dean grabbed his hand and shook it, feeling himself smile.

 

“Deal. Now, I need some quality time with the sub, so … see you later?”

 

“Sure. I’ll get your contact details from your assistant. Here’s my card,” Castiel passed a business card over, and smiled back faintly. “I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

 

He wound his way back towards the office, and Dean watched him go, chewing on his sandwich once again. He couldn’t say he had ever expected a member of one of the most influential families in America ask him out on a date, fake or not. But strangely, he was excited, and not just for the paycheck at the end of it. He had a rare opportunity to get to know Castiel Novak, and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel had emailed contracts over to Dean to sign and send back, stipulating the terms of their agreement. Seeing all those zeroes in a row had been almost hypnotizing, although Dean was still skeptical that he would ever see that money. He found that he didn’t much care if he didn’t. Castiel had also been talkative in the body of the email, something Dean hadn’t been expecting. Hell, Dean hadn’t expected to like Castiel half as much as he already did. He couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about the dates, picturing himself and Castiel in darkened corners, giving in to the initial attraction he felt.

 

He was at home, a few days after Castiel’s visit. So far, he had managed to fend off Charlie’s constant questions by claiming that he’d never found out the guy’s name, but had managed to sell a piece and had eventually eaten his pie in peace. Charlie rolled her eyes at that comment, and finally dropped the conversation, only for Sam to have started it up again when he got home. Apparently Castiel had managed to avoid Charlie discovering his identity by paying for the statue through some obscure company he probably owned.

 

The day before, Castiel had dropped him a message on his phone to let him know he had made him an appointment with a tailor, and that he would be picked up. Part of Dean was hoping for a limousine while another part hoped that Castiel would be true to form and act discreetly. While he waited, Charlie and Sam were in his ear, talking at him.

 

“But come on, Dean! It’s ice hockey, you love watching the blood bounce on the ice when they fight,” Sam folded his arms and scowled. “I never get to spend time with you any more.”

 

“Your fault for being a smart ass. I’m not in the studio today but I _do_ have plans.”

 

“What plans?” Charlie stuck in. “I schedule your whole life. Ice hockey isn’t just penciled in; it’s in bright red Sharpie.”

 

This was the problem with keeping it in the family.

 

“Plans that don’t involve you.”

 

Charlie narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“You know Dean, we put up with a lot of artistic temperament crap from you. You’re going to put up with this from us. You’re going to buy a chili dog and make inappropriate comments and yell at the other team’s fans. And you’re going to smile as you do it or so help me-”

 

The doorbell rang, and Dean turned away from Charlie in mid-sentence to answer it. A kid no older than eighteen stood on the other side of the door, looking nervous in a suit that drowned him.

 

“H-hello. I’m here to pick up Dean Winchester?”

 

Dean turned to his younger brother and sister.

 

“Don’t wait up. Get me a foam finger.” He walked out as they both started asking a bunch of new questions, and followed the kid in the suit down the road. “So … you’re young.”

 

“I know. I just got this job. I know how to get to the tailor though, you’ll get there in one piece, don’t worry. Are- are you really Dean Winchester? The artist?”

 

“Uh-huh. And you are?”

 

“Kevin. Kevin Tran.” He gestured to a sleek BMW and Dean climbed inside, as Kevin did too. Once the doors were closed, he started talking more freely. “Michael thought I would be too young to hire, which made Luke insist on hiring me. And Castiel said they should give me a chance. Getting you to the tailor and back in one piece is my trial. So, how do you know Castiel?”

 

Dean wondered if this was a test for him too. Castiel had said not to mention how they knew each other.

 

“Oh, you know. Stuff. Suit appreciation society.”

 

Kevin laughed, and pulled out into the traffic.

 

“Did I interrupt something a minute ago?”

 

“Yeah, my brother and sister got tickets to the ice hockey match downtown. Going to miss it for this. But it’s cool. The society would be disappointed if I didn’t get this fitting done.”

 

“You could still make it. You won’t be that long getting your suit, the store isn’t that far from the arena. I could drop you there, you could meet them in the queue?”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah. I’m here to do whatever you need. If you decide to go to the Canadian border I’d be the one to take you. So long as you get this appointment done.”

 

The perverse side of Dean wanted to take advantage of Castiel’s generosity, but he knew it would be better to appease his siblings. He took out his phone and tapped out a message to Charlie, hoping that they would forgive him enough to go along with it.

 

“Just the ice hockey would be good. I’ll go home with my brother and sister afterwards, you can go back to the Novak’s.”

 

“Sure. Thanks Mr Winchester.”

 

“It’s Dean, and no worries.”

 

Dean settled back in the seat, which was even more comfortable than his own car, and saw a small bottle of champagne in ice bucket in front of him, along with a glass.

 

“Wow. Real champagne.”

 

“Yes, compliments of Mr Novak. He said to make sure you took the bottle with you when you go, but I don’t imagine they’ll let you take it into a hockey game.”

 

“I’ll just have to get my drink on. I’d leave you some, but you know,”

 

“Yeah. Under twenty-one. Also driving. Also would definitely be fired if I was drinking on the job. And I kind of need the money.”

 

“I hear that,” Dean breathed, and eased the bottle open, before drinking straight out of it. Just in case he spilled it in sudden traffic, he reasoned silently.

 

The tailor wasn’t too far away but he’d managed to neck most of the champagne before they parked up. As they walked in someone immediately took Dean’s jacket, and someone else pressed a fresh glass of champagne in his hand, leading him through to the back to try on some suits Castiel had already put aside, and be measured to make sure they fit as well as possible. He managed a few mouthfuls before the glass was taken out of his hands and a suit jacket shrugged onto him, for a moment he was annoyed but then decided to just go with it. After all, it was free champagne, a free suit, and a couple of dates with a hot, eligible, funny guy at stake.

 

He was slipping into the third suit when a raised voice from the other side of the wall caught his attention, and that of the seamstress poking pins all over the fine material. They listened intently together, neither of them ashamed to be eavesdropping.

 

“He did _what_? No. No, absolutely not. I’ve told you before, I don’t care how much he sweet talks everyone, he doesn’t get to close a deal without my say so.”

 

Dean looked at the seamstress and shrugged, then winced as a pin dug into his skin near his shoulder. The door opened, and Dean found himself face-to-face with Michael Novak. Of all the people he could have met while some woman was tweaking his pants.

 

“Sorry, I thought this room was free.” There was a tic going under Michael’s eye. Dean wondered which brother had pissed him off.

 

“No biggie.” He shrugged easily. The champagne had given him a nice buzz, and it was hard to feel aggravated by the interruption. Michael nodded, and made to leave, before pausing.

 

“You’re that artist, aren’t you? The one Time did a feature on a few months ago?”

 

“Yeah, hi, I’m Dean Winchester.” He offered his hand. Even though he didn’t particularly want to talk to Michael Novak, he supposed he’d buy Castiel some brownie points by trying to be nice to him. Even if it was surreal that Michael Novak had any idea who he was, or had followed one of the few articles that Dean had appeared in. Michael shook his hand firmly.

 

“One of my brothers was impressed with the article, you know. Don’t be surprised if he buys from you. Although knowing Castiel, he’s probably one of your regular customers already and you have no idea.” Michael shook his head, and Dean swallowed down a smirk.

 

“Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan’s brother.”

 

Michael gave him an appraising look, and turned to the seamstress.

 

“Lisa, he’d work better in the Armani.”

 

“These are the suits I was told to try him in.”

 

“Armani,” Michael nodded at Dean, like it had been his decision. And then he turned around and lifted his phone to his ear as he walked away. Dean looked at the seamstress again nervously.

 

“Um, don’t worry about the Armani. I think … I mean …”

 

“It’s fine. Castiel never picked it.” She made a few more measurements and then took the jacket off of him. “Okay, you’re done. Remove the pants carefully and place them on the seat please.” She left him alone in the room, and Dean scrambled gratefully back into his own clothes, which felt so much more comfortable without pins sticking out everywhere. He walked back out into the front, where Michael was pacing, phone glued to his ear, talking quickly and angrily to whoever was on the other end. Dean sketched a wave at him as he left, and Michael blanked him, continuing his terse conversation instead.

 

He slid back into the car that still waited outside and Kevin pulled away almost instantly, saying nothing as Dean continued with the champagne.

 

“How did the fitting go?” He asked as they hit a red light, a few minutes into the journey.

 

“Okay, I guess. It was someone sticking pins in my clothes.”

 

Kevin smiled into the rearview mirror, and Dean took another swig of champagne.

 

“Not long until we get to the stadium. I told Castiel where you were going, so he knows how long until I’m back. And he knows you’re well taken care of.”

 

“Oh, cool.” Dean smiled, and sank back in his seat, finishing off the wine. His head was swimming pleasantly now, and the car was warm and the seat was soft and he could have easily fallen asleep, but they were pulling up to the stadium. Dean could see Sam already, a head above everyone else in the queue, skulking nearby with Charlie who was on her phone. A few moments later, Dean’s cell rang in his pocket.

 

“I’d better go. Thanks Kevin. I’ll put a good word in with Castiel for you.”

 

Kevin waved him along, and he stepped out to join his brother and sister, feeling completely buzzed.

 

“Hey! So, hockey?” He slung an arm around Charlie’s shoulder, and turned her towards the entrance. Sam walked beside them with a curious expression.

 

“Dean, are you drunk? Where the hell did you go?”

 

“A little bit, but shhh Sammy, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you!”

 

Sam groaned, and Charlie shushed Dean as they approached the turnstiles. Sam handed their tickets over, and the security guard scanned them, then called someone over. They looked at the tickets, and scanned them again, then looked at the scanner. Dean started to play with Charlie’s hair, as Sam tried to use his lawyer voice to find out what was going on.

 

“Is there a problem? We got these tickets from the box office a few weeks ago.”

 

“No problem. You’re all Winchesters?”

 

Sam nodded, clearly confused. And ordinarily, Dean would be too, wanting to know exactly what the big deal was even if they were Winchesters? But the champagne was still flowing through his system quite nicely, and he just had a feeling …

 

“Please come with us.” The steward who had been called over gestured, and began walking away. Dean nudged Charlie along, and Sam followed.

 

“Dean, this isn’t a good sign,” Charlie whispered quietly. “I bet they know you’re drunk.”

 

“ _He_ did it,” Dean decided confidently. “He did it.”

 

“Great, you even sound drunk,” Charlie sighed.

 

“Bet you a chili dog we’re getting an upgrade.” Dean was still confident.

 

“I miss the Dean who PMS’s. I don’t like happy drunk Dean. He’s an idiot.” Charlie muttered, as the steward gestured through a door.

 

“You’re in here. Enjoy the game.”

 

He stepped aside, and they filtered through. Charlie and Sam both stopped to stare around. They were in a private box. It was still cold from the atmosphere of the rink, but there was a buffet and bar and cushioned seats with an amazing view of the game. Charlie snagged a plate and loaded it up before pouncing on the front seats. Sam caught Dean’s eye.

 

“How did you know?”

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

“Dean, did you waste all your earnings from one piece on this? We can’t afford to live like that!”

 

“Shhhh!” Dean headed towards the bar. Sam nudged him along to the food.

 

“Nuh-uh. No more alcohol. Look, mini burgers. You can feel like a giant.”

 

“I should do miniature sculptures.”

 

“Uh huh. Dean, seriously, what’s going on?”

 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Except I can’t tell you. And if I could, I wouldn’t. Whatever. Just enjoy it, Sammy.”

 

He ambled over to Charlie, taking the seat next to her and grabbing a giant shrimp from her plate, watching as the team skated onto the ice. Sam finally joined them, and focused on the game, although Dean knew the questions had only just started. He made a mental note to message Castiel and thank him for his generosity, once his siblings were distracted by food and booze at half-time.


	3. Chapter 3

The suits had been delivered a couple of days after Dean’s fitting. In the meantime Dean had progressed well with his sculpture and spent far too much time texting with Castiel. Despite the constant back and forth between them, however, Dean hadn’t seen him since the day they’d met, something that made him feel nervous.

 

He put on one of the suits, and splashed some cologne on in front of the mirror in his bathroom. He grabbed some wax, flattening his hair into a side parting. He didn’t often do it, but Charlie said he looked good when he did it and he figured that it would probably work for whatever Castiel had planned.

 

The guy was still an enigma. Yes, they texted constantly and Dean knew a ton of tiny, insignificant details. But he didn’t know what Castiel did for work or for a hobby, what he wanted out of life, whether this was more than a business deal to him. Not knowing these things made Dean a little frustrated.

 

Charlie sat on his bed holding a cushion, as he combed the wax through his hair, making sure it was all behaving. She was watching him like a hawk. Sam stood in the doorway to his bedroom too, arms folded, silently appraising him. They’d both been treating him with total suspicion, eyeing his cell every time it beeped with a text message. He knew they wouldn’t let up now, when he was about to go out with Castiel for the first time.

 

“So, this is a date?” Sam asked again. Dean had lost count of how many times Charlie and Sam had both asked him that.

 

“It’s an event.”

 

“Right. But you have a date?”

 

“Maybe. What is this, twenty questions?” Dean shot back, closing up the wax.

 

“Why are you being so secretive about this? Come on Dean, it’s us. Since when do we keep secrets from each other?”

 

Dean adjusted his tie, and grabbed his mouthwash, which served the dual purpose of making sure his breath wasn’t toxic and stopped him being able to reply to either of them.

 

“I bet it’s some supermodel or something. Totally out of his league,” Charlie teased, and then reconsidered. “Although, when he would have met her … was that what you were doing before ice hockey?”

 

Dean gestured at the mouthwash he was swilling around his gums, and tried to smile through his pursed lips.

 

“Is that a new suit?” Sam pushed. “Dean, how are you affording all this? The upgrade at the hockey, the new suit, the obviously fancy evening you have planned … you’re not wracking up credit cards like Dad used to do, are you?”

 

Dean finally spat the mouthwash, and wiped his mouth over the sink.

 

“It’s not costing me a dime.”

 

“Dean, do you know how shady this is?” Sam persisted, as the doorbell rang. He made an agitated sound, and left the room to answer the door before Dean could stop him. He had managed to get halfway down the stairs, Charlie a few steps behind him, when he saw Castiel standing on the other side of the door, peering around Sam curiously.

 

Dean froze where he stood, staring. He didn’t remember Castiel looking quite so handsome, but there was no denying how incredibly good-looking he was, standing there in a tuxedo that matched Deans, his own dark hair artfully spiked in all directions. Castiel was suddenly a real person, not just a device that made his phone ping every few minutes.

 

“Uh, hi?” Sam interrupted their staring.

 

“Hey, you’re the guy who bought Dean’s work-in-progress!” Charlie exclaimed loudly, and Castiel raised his shoulders instantly, as though he was scared of her.

 

“Well, that would explain a lot,” Sam cast an eye back at Dean, who finally found his voice. And leg function. He came down the last couple of steps and tried to remember what he was meant to do with his hands.

 

“Hey, I’m ready,” his voice sounded like it was clogged up. But damn, he couldn’t take his eyes off Castiel. He just about managed to incline his head to his siblings. “See you later, kids. Don’t wait up.”

 

Sam placed a hand in front of him, stopping his progress. Dean rolled his eyes and gave Castiel a pained look, and Castiel returned it with one slow nod. Like he understood the craziness of siblings.

 

“You live with your assistant?”

 

Dean wanted to groan in frustration. Every moment extra they spent in Sam and Charlie’s presence was another moment they came closer to the truth. Why was Castiel dragging it out when he was the one who wanted the anonymity?

 

“She’s my sister. She needed a job and she’s good with computers.”

 

“Next time you want to take my brother out, can you please go through me so I can make sure Dean doesn’t have anything else on?” Charlie pushed. Castiel gave a faint smile.

 

“I’ll have my people do it. But I’m on a tight schedule right now, so could I please have Dean for the evening? I promise to look after him and return him in relatively good condition.”

 

Sam didn’t lower his arm.

 

“Where are you taking him?”

 

“Geez, Sam!” Dean complained. Castiel gave another small, wry smile.

 

“A very boring networking event, over at the clubhouse on the golf course on Maple. Where there will no doubt be art enthusiasts who will go nuts about Dean, so it all works in your favor.”

 

Sam’s arm lowered slightly, and Dean took advantage of his moment of weakness to push forward, grabbing Castiel’s arm and tugging him out of the door. They hurried along the sidewalk to where Kevin was stood outside of a stretch limousine, looking bored. He straightened as he saw Castiel, and smiled at Dean before opening the door for them and gesturing inside.

 

Dean wasn’t sure he could get used to that, but Castiel seemed to think nothing of it, sliding into the back gracefully and disappearing into the depths of the car.

 

“Hi, Kevin,” Dean smiled at him.

 

“Hi. Better get in, we’re running late.”

 

“Yeah sorry, sibling trouble,” Dean explained as he ducked down and scrabbled into the back. Kevin shut the door before he could turn to do it, and then he realized he was alone in the back of a stretch limo with the man he’d been texting for the last few days and he had no idea what to say. He couldn’t even look at Castiel without seeing that perfect smile and sexy spiked hair. It had been too damn long since Dean had had any.

 

Instead, he looked around at the car’s interior, at the LED’s spread across the roof and the thick carpet underfoot. The minibar that ran down one side of the car opposite the padded leather seat that Castiel was now perched on. He had been making himself busy, opening a bottle of champagne and pouring it into two fluted glasses that were suspended on the side of the limo. Dean barely noticed as Kevin pulled away, the drive was so smooth. Instead, he watched as Castiel placed the bottle carefully into a designated slot under the glasses, and then took the two flutes, holding one out to Dean. He took it wordlessly, swallowing a little as their fingers grazed each other, though it only lasted a moment before Castiel let go.

 

“I think we should make a toast,” Castiel announced. “To us.”

 

“To us?” Dean’s voice was still strained.

 

“Yes. I think we’re going to make an excellent team.”

 

That wasn’t how Dean wanted to think of them, but he knew it would probably be too much for Castiel, to suddenly announce that actually, he was attracted to him and didn’t really want to consider this purely as a business arrangement. Instead, he tapped their glasses together.

 

“To us.” He conceded.

 

“Are you nervous?” Castiel was scarily perceptive.

 

“Uh, yeah. I don’t know what to expect here.”

 

“Basically, everyone will talk at you about all their many achievements which include making money, shameless self-promotion, and that time they got a hole-in-one. Unless, I suppose, you get cornered by Gabriel and Balthazar whose boasts will include how much they spent on Cristal, which actress they slept with squeals like a pig and the weirdest places they’ve had sex.”

 

Dean choked on his drink and Castiel passed him a napkin.

 

“I’m sorry, did that shock you?” He asked when Dean had finally gotten his breath back.

 

“No, no, just…” he didn’t know how to explain that it was the way those words sounded in Castiel’s gravelly voice. It had completely turned him on. Clearing his throat he continued. “Um, so you don’t like the boasting?”

 

“No. I don’t like it when they turn it around on me either, like ‘Oh Castiel, I’ve just bought a castle, that makes three castles in my portfolio now, how are your property investments coming along?’ Because they don’t truly care whether or not I make property purchases, they just want to make themselves look more impressive because they have three entire castles more than a Novak.”

 

“Wait, you don’t have a castle? I’m not sure about this deal any more.”

 

“Shut up,” Castiel grinned. “Please, just deflect them. I’m not that good at it.”

 

“Sure you are. You sassed me in my studio.”

 

“It’s different, with you,” Castiel looked into his glass, suddenly serious. “You’re not looking to compete with me. You were just hungry.”

 

“So, it’s not because I’m a little person?” Dean tried to joke. Castiel looked up at him, his bright blue eyes seeming almost black in the poor lighting from the LEDs.

 

“I would never think that, Dean. It’s because you make me feel comfortable, like I’m part of the joke rather than the butt of it. And you’re not putting any pressure on me either, not like my brothers,” Castiel slumped suddenly in his seat. “Let’s blow it off. Kevin, take me back.”

 

“Kevin, don’t,” Dean called louder, and slid onto the seat beside Castiel. “I thought you couldn’t get out of this? Isn’t that the entire reason I’m here?”

 

He wanted to take Castiel’s hand, squeeze it, feel Castiel’s fingers slide in between his, but he wasn’t sure that Castiel even wanted him.

 

“I appreciate you making all this effort for me Dean, but I can’t do it. I can’t. Everyone always wants to know all my business, and the truth is,” Castiel sighed. “The truth is, I’m just not like the rest of my family. I’m not some business whizz kid like Michael, or a smooth talker like Luke. I don’t like partying like Gabe and Balth. I’m the failure Novak.”

 

Dean felt a buzzing in his chest. He threw caution to the wind, and took Castiel’s hand anyway. He didn’t react.

 

“Look, Cas, we haven’t known each other long but I like the guy you are. You do have a lot going for you. Screw anyone who doesn’t like what you are. And if you don’t want them to find anything out, I’ll be your buffer, right?”

 

“Right.” Castiel agreed in a small voice.

 

“So, we’re going to this thing, and we’ll drink way too much champagne and you’ll laugh at me when I eat caviar and hate it, and we’ll keep to ourselves as much as possible.”

 

“Thank you.” Castiel whispered. He took a deep breath and sipped his drink again. Dean gave his hand another squeeze, then made himself let go, even though all he wanted to do was keep touching him. He had no way to be sure that Cas was even interested in him in that way and now didn’t seem like the best time to find out. He’d never be able to get through the rest of the night if he got shot down.

 

They stayed quiet for a couple of moments, before Castiel sighed loudly.

 

“Here’s the golf course. Ugh.”

 

“Game faces on,” Dean nodded. Castiel took the champagne bottle and topped up their glasses.

 

“Kevin, pull over for a second, I’m not ready yet,” he called through the hatch. Kevin stuck a thumb up, and closed the hatch completely, leaving Dean and Castiel in total privacy. Castiel slung his glass back, swallowing the contents in one gulp, and topping it again. Dean sipped his slowly. Castiel made an agitated sound. “Come on, Dean, drink up.”

 

“I’m gonna need to be able to walk still, Cas,” he pointed out. He was actually more afraid of getting drunk and shamelessly sticking his tongue down Castiel’s throat. But he drank a little faster anyway.

 

“Okay, here’s how it is.” Castiel filled both their glasses again, and put the bottle down carefully. “You and I stick together the whole time, okay? If anyone asks if we’re dating, you don’t say yes or no, just change the subject. But we play up to it just enough that people wonder anyway. I don’t want to spend more than two minutes with anyone else if we can help it, and if I want to go, we go. Even if we’ve been in there ten minutes and you haven’t been grossed out by caviar yet. I said I’d come, I didn’t say I’d stay.”

 

His cheeks were slightly flushed, and Dean wanted to stroke a calming hand over them. Instead, he took another big mouthful of champagne.

 

“So, do we hold hands?”

 

“We can,” Castiel bobbed his head once in a nod. “And anything you want to say to me, whisper it in my ear. Even if it’s just about the Mayor’s wife and her four chins. It’ll look more couple-y.”

 

Dean smirked, and Castiel rapped his knuckles against the glass hatch. Kevin started driving again, and Castiel finished his glass, sticking it back in its holder. Dean took his time finishing his, Castiel took it from him the second he drained it and placed it back carefully. The car stopped outside the club house, and Dean went to open the door.

 

“Don’t do that. It’s Kevin’s job.”

 

Dean looked back at him, and Castiel shrugged. The more time they spent together, the more questions Dean had. Like how Castiel could seem so sensitive about so many issues but then still expect the hired help to wipe his ass for him. But he remained silent, and waited for Kevin to open the door, before insisting on turning around and offering a hand to Castiel, to help him out of the car. Castiel took it, gripping hard, and didn’t let go as Kevin shut the door. Dean breathed a ‘thank you’ at him, before walking with Castiel into the club house, hyper aware of all the camera flashes going off in front of them. But no one seemed to point a camera in their direction, and Dean was glad of Castiel’s attempts at anonymity so far. It would have been too much on top of Castiel’s slightly baffling behavior.

 

They walked into the main function room, still clasping hands, and almost immediately got accosted by a man Dean recognized as Luke Novak.

 

“Castiel! You came! Is this a sign of the coming apocalypse?” He appeared to suddenly notice Dean then. “And you brought a friend who isn’t Meg Masters. Interesting.” He looked Dean up and down, and went back to Castiel. Dean felt a surge of protectiveness he normally felt for Sam and Charlie. Luke seemed like an asshole, and Dean wasn’t going to let him hurt Castiel. “So, is this a prank you devised with Gabriel, or did you and your little girlfriend break up?”

 

“Cas, did you need a drink?” Dean interrupted, squeezing his hand gently. Castiel gripped back, hard. “Where’s the bar? Excuse us,” he shouldered Luke out of the way, and pulled Castiel further into the room, trying to find an inconspicuous place for them to stand. Unfortunately, the room was full of well-dressed people milling around, and having the kinds of conversation that Castiel had enacted in the car. They grabbed a couple of drinks from a passing waiter, and settled in a far corner.

 

“Thanks, Dean,” Castiel mumbled quietly.

 

“Anytime. Luke’s an asshole.”

 

“True,” Castiel leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes.

 

“Oh. You’ve met.”

 

Dean turned to the person who had just spoken, and saw Michael studying them. Castiel groaned softly.

 

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Dean felt flustered.

 

“You didn’t get the Armani,” Michael observed. Dean made sure not to look at Castiel.

 

“Um, no. I had another appointment, I didn’t get the time.”

 

“Well, the Cavalli works. Not as well, but I guess it’s just a question of taste.”

 

“I like Cavalli,” Castiel said softly.

 

“There you go, we’ve got the same taste,” Dean tried to break the tension gathering between the three of them.

 

“Indeed. You should tell him about your art, I’m sure he’d appreciate it. Excuse me, I can see Luke is going to upset the Mayor’s wife.”

 

Michael huffed in exasperation, and walked away, and Dean turned back to Castiel, who was regarding him silently.

 

“He kind of walked in on my fitting.” Dean explained. “He told me you were a fan.”

 

Castiel didn’t flicker, or show any signs of recognition, and Dean wondered what he’d done to piss him off.

 

“Something about this piece in Time magazine? I didn’t know Michael would have read it.”

 

Castiel still didn’t react. Dean stepped closer, dropping his voice.

 

“Cas? Are you okay? I mean, Michael’s focus was on my suit, not on you. Isn’t that the point?”

 

“Castiel!” Someone exclaimed loudly, and Dean wanted to groan this time, especially when he got slapped on the back. “Balth, he came! I told you he would, even if Meg’s gone away for the weekend. And who’s this hot piece of ass?”

 

“It’s the artist guy! Remember Gabe? Castiel wouldn’t shut up about him for weeks. Did you offer him a blow job to come, Cassie?”

 

Dean would have preferred Michael’s company to these two. Castiel was gripping his hand tightly now, painfully tight. His mind had gone blank; he wasn’t sure what to say to Castiel, or his brothers. He was doing a lousy job.

 

“If you didn’t, I’d have a go. He looks delicious.”

 

Dean felt a hand cup his ass, and he jumped.

 

“Dude, not cool,” he turned around and glared at Balthazar, who grinned back easily like he’d done nothing wrong.

 

“We get it, your ass is for Cas,” Gabriel sounded bored. “Besides Balth, it’s more fun to mess with Amara.”

 

They walked off, and Dean caught Castiel’s eye again, grimacing slightly.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. They’re very full on.”

 

“It’s not. I said I’d buffer and I didn’t.”

 

“Balthazar touched you. I don’t blame you. I’m not happy with him.” There was a flash of anger in Castiel’s eyes.

 

“Why?” Dean wanted to know.

 

“Because he touched you. That’s not okay.”

 

Dean stared at him, completely dumbfounded by Castiel.

 

“Because I’m your guest?”

 

“Partially. But he didn’t ask either, didn’t check if you’d be okay with it. He doesn’t know you’re straight.”

 

Dean felt his cheeks burning, and he leaned even closer, his mouth brushing against Castiel’s ear.

 

“Actually, I’m not. But I’m still not okay with him doing it, I’m here with you.”

 

He lingered for a moment, apprehensive that he’d gone too far. Castiel squeezed his hand once more.

 

“Can we ditch out soon? Now we’ve shown up and kind of socialized?”

 

“Sure. You call the shots.”

 

“Castiel!” A loud voice boomed across the room, louder even than Gabriel and Balthazar. Castiel made another frustrated groan, especially as there was a hushed sound, like everyone in the room had turned to look at them. Dean stepped aside slightly, as the gentleman descended, his round face turning red, his greying hair thinning on top. “Rarely see you at these things! Is Michael getting you into the business finally? Like a real Novak?”

 

Castiel grimaced, and Dean tried to think fast, to head this guy off. Castiel clearly didn’t want to talk to him. But the guy droned on, still overly loud, as though Castiel had responded.

 

“Got any prospective clients? Or building your portfolio? What are you doing, young Novak, hmmm?”

 

“He’s supporting a local artist,” Dean interrupted quietly. It was true, in a sense.

 

“That’s a great investment, anyone we’ve heard of, hmmm, Castiel?”

 

“Probably not.” Dean carried on pushing. The guy kept talking like Castiel had answered.

 

“Wonderful, I hope he ends up successful!”

 

The guy finally walked away, and Castiel tugged Dean outside before anyone else could accost them.

 

“It’s okay that I said that, right?”

 

“It’s fine,” Castiel muttered, and led Dean onto the nearest green. They began walking around the golf course in the dark, the sounds of the clubhouse fading quickly.

 

“So, you normally come to these things with Meg?”

 

“Yes, when I can’t get out of it. We’ve known each other since we were tiny. She’s my best friend.”

 

“She doesn’t have much time for it either, huh?”

 

“No. Shhh!”

 

Dean stopped walking, standing close to Castiel, still hand-in-hand with him. They waited, listening intently, until they realized that there was someone nearby, in the trees bordering the green. There was hushed laughter and whispering, and Castiel tugged him away again, clearly wanting nothing to do with whatever they had stumbled upon. Dean was almost impressed that rich people like Castiel’s family could be just like everyone else.

 

“It’s probably Gabe or Balth, and some chick they came across,” Castiel muttered under his breath. “I hate this.”

 

Dean pulled him into a hug without saying another word, trying to focus on making Castiel feel better and not the fact that every minute they spent together, he fell for him that little bit more. He held Castiel tightly, but Castiel stood there, letting him hold him.

 

“Do you want to go now?” Dean asked after a few moments. Castiel seemed to collapse in his arms in relief.

 

“Please. I’ll let Kevin know, he’ll pick us up at the entrance.”

 

They headed back to the clubhouse, where Kevin had indeed pulled the limousine up to the door. They climbed in without speaking to anyone else, and Castiel deflated onto the bench that stretched the length of the car.

 

“Thank you Dean. Sorry it was so awful.”

 

“It’s fine. I didn’t think Michael was so big a dick. I was worried about you, I mean, how many more things are they forcing you to go to?”

 

“A couple of auctions, someone’s birthday, a few more of these networking events that seem to have no real purpose.”

 

“Ouch.”

 

“Yes. Meg normally makes it easier for me. But it was bearable tonight too.”

 

“Thanks?” Dean wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a compliment.

 

“That’s a good thing. I like you, Dean.”

 

“Even if I actually did okay with Michael?”

 

“Hmmm?” Castiel seemed distracted. “Oh, that wasn’t a problem.”

 

“Yeah? You seemed a little pissed off.”

 

“Don’t worry about that.” Castiel reached across and grabbed the champagne bottle. “Want to help me finish this off?”

 

“Is there anything left in there?” Dean smirked. Castiel rolled his eyes, and poured two more glasses, passing one to Dean. “You don’t have to get me drunk.”

 

“Shut up,” Castiel smiled, scooting closer to Dean on the plush leather. “Drink the damn champagne. We’re near your neighborhood now.”

 

Dean took his drink and knocked it back in one go. He was determined to understand Castiel over the next few weeks, if for no other reason than to figure out if he could put the moves on him. They spent the rest of the journey back to Dean’s house working through the champagne, and getting that pleasant warm feeling spreading through their veins.

 

“So, when do I see you next?” Dean checked as they started driving down his street.

 

“Tomorrow, if that’s okay? Meg’s still away.”

 

“Of course it’s okay, Cas. That’s the deal, right?”

 

“It’s always polite to ask,” Castiel countered with a smile. “I like that you call me Cas, by the way. Everyone else just says my full name. I think my brothers do it to make a point, but most other people sound surprised. Like I actually exist.”

 

“I called you the mystery Novak when we first met.”

 

Castiel didn’t look offended, even as the limousine pulled to a stop.

 

“I know. You couldn’t remember it. I preferred that to ‘oh my goodness, _you_ _’_ _re_ Castiel Novak?’ because you didn’t make me sound like herpes.”

 

“I was kind of hoping you’d keep coming back,” Dean joked. “Hey, you wanna come in?”

 

“Not this time, Dean. See you tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah, tomorrow. Let me know when you get home, okay?”

 

Castiel didn’t respond, but watched him as Kevin opened the door for him and he climbed out. The limousine pulled away only when Dean opened his front door. He watched it go, and then turned to find Sam and Charlie sitting side-by-side on the stairs, their faces equally stern.

 

“Have a nice time?” Charlie asked, as Dean shut the front door behind him. He pulled off his tie and shrugged out of his jacket.

 

“It was okay.”

 

“You’re home early.” Sam observed.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You know we want to ask about your new guy, right?” Charlie pushed. “Like, what’s his name, what did he say to convince you to start dating again, how can he afford ten thousand dollars on a half-finished sculpture?”

 

Dean looked at them both, leaning against the front door. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his brother and sister, but he knew that they’d have a hard time believing that Castiel was genuine. They’d both find different things to chew him out for.

 

“Look, it’s … new. And I’m still figuring things out. So can you both chill a little?”

 

“When do you see him again?” Sam folded his arms.

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

“He’s coming in here first, before you rush off anywhere.”

 

“Okay, Dad,” Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“Low blow,” Charlie narrowed her eyes. “We’re just looking out for you, Dean.”

 

“I know. It’s just complicated, okay?”

 

Sam and Charlie exchanged a look, one that Dean didn’t trust.

 

“So, you’re going to do a search?” Sam asked Charlie.

 

“I already did. Google Image was not helpful. Kept showing me pictures of Michael Novak.” Charlie rolled her eyes.

 

“Hey, no fair. Don’t investigate him.” Dean complained.

 

“If you’re not going to tell us,” Sam shrugged. “What choice do we have?”

 

Dean sighed. He knew Charlie’s capabilities with a computer meant she hadn’t even scratched the surface of who Castiel was. It wouldn’t take her long to hack into the truth.

 

“It’s illegal, lawyer boy.”

 

Sam shrugged.

 

“Google Images is a legitimate search engine platform.”

 

“I’m tired,” Dean bluffed. “I’m going to bed.”

 

“Fine. We’ll talk about it when you’re well rested and the alcohol has left your system.”

 

They stood together and walked up the stairs, letting Dean trail behind them and hit the lights as he went. But he didn’t climb into bed straight away; instead he grabbed a sketchbook, and a charcoal pencil, and started etching a rough image of Castiel. He had it bad already.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean had managed not to mention anything further to Sam and Charlie about Castiel. Thankfully, Sam was in the office all day, and Dean could block Charlie out by using his loudest tools to manipulate the iron he was using on Castiel’s sculpture. Charlie had locked herself in the office anyway, which didn’t bring Dean the relief it should have. It meant she was using her computer know-how to hack into anything that would give her information on Castiel. Dean had felt the impulse to tell her not to, remind her how hard Sam had had to work to convince his colleague to prove her innocent in court that time she accidentally compromised homeland security. But then she would be insistent that he had to tell her exactly who Castiel was and it was his own fault that she had to break the law to get the information out of him.

 

But Dean could picture it, telling his younger brother and sister who Castiel was. Having them laugh about it. Explaining about the cash, hearing their lectures. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

 

Castiel had, surprisingly, agreed to come over early, and talk to Sam and Charlie. Dean couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to meet his family, especially after one date, but he supposed Castiel was trying to make amends after his own siblings. Or at least Balthazar.

 

It felt like the day had whizzed by before Dean had to pack up shop, leave his equipment to cool, and grab a shower before putting on one of the suits Castiel had bought him. He was just working wax through his hair when the door went, and he could hear Charlie talking to whoever it was. He rushed out of his room, and took the stairs two at a time, finding Charlie and Castiel standing either side of the now-closed front door.

 

“Uh, hi?” He tried to break up their staring contest. Charlie looked over to him, and then back at Castiel.

 

“Yeah, Dean’s ready. What’s your name again?”

 

“Cas-Castiel.”

 

Charlie nodded slowly, a confused expression on her face. Dean wasn’t sure if he could live through even half an hour of this. He clapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

 

“You want a drink?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel’s shoulder’s sagged in relief. “What do you have?”

 

“Beer. Or some weird, fruity chick drink that Charlie likes.”

 

“I can drink beer,” Castiel nodded, squaring his shoulders up once again, like he was asserting himself as an alpha male. Dean tried to hide the smile, and led Castiel through to the kitchen, where Sam was preparing a meal for himself and Charlie for dinner. Charlie followed them, typing away on her phone. Dean knew he only had a few moments before she found out the truth. He wondered how his siblings would take it when Castiel was there to prove or refute the whole thing.

 

“That’s Sam,” Dean gestured to his younger brother. Sam looked up from his work to frown at Dean, who pretended not to notice as he crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer, snapping the tops off easily. Sam’s hawk eyes followed his movements.

 

“Dean? If you’re going out with this guy, should you both be drinking? Who’s driving?”

 

“Sam’s a lawyer,” Dean explained to Castiel as he passed over one of the bottles. “We’re about to get a lecture on drink driving.”

 

Castiel gave a small smile, and looked to Sam.

 

“Neither of us are driving, this is safe.”

 

“What are you possibly going to-”

 

Sam was cut off by a squeal from Charlie, who looked up from her phone in excitement, her smile huge but with a hint of mischief in it. She’d worked it out, Dean could tell.

 

“You’re Castiel?” She blurted out. “As in, Castiel _Novak_?”

 

Castiel glanced at Dean, as though he was mentally repeating what he had said the night before. Dean had heard it, the infliction in Charlie’s voice. Like she had just discovered the Loch Ness Monster having a tea party with a Yeti and Bigfoot. But he wasn’t sure what to do. He knew the whole point of whatever this was with Castiel was to get him out of awkward situations like this, but he wasn’t exactly sure where they stood, and how to explain that to his overly curious little sister. And she would weasel the truth out of them in a heartbeat.

 

“I see what you mean,” he said instead, focusing on Castiel. “Like herpes.”

 

Castiel smiled, and sipped his beer as Sam groaned.

 

“Dean, you’re the only person I know who could have a date with a billionaire and talk about herpes five minutes in.” Sam shook his head, and squinted at Castiel. “I’m sorry about my brother.”

 

Castiel answered Sam in a polite, detached way, but Dean couldn’t focus on anything but the word billionaire. Castiel was a billionaire? No wonder he was so breezy about giving all that money over. He probably thought Dean came cheap.

 

He zoned back in as Castiel explained about Kevin, watching as Sam’s shoulders slowly relaxed.

 

“And the upgrade at the hockey game, do we have you to thank for that too?” Sam pushed.

 

“Ye-yes. Dean mentioned you were all going and I thought it might make up for me scheduling an appointment beforehand.”

 

“It totally did,” Charlie enthused, leaning across the counter and grabbing a celery stick, dunking it into a jar of peanut butter she had pulled out of the cupboard while Sam wasn’t watching, and taking a huge bite. “Sam thought Dean was doing something illegal. Got to admit, I wondered too. I mean, you bought his statue when he’d only built her up to her waist. Could have been a dealer. A drug dealer, not an art one.”

 

“I’m sorry for my sister,” Dean shook his head, and took a big slug of his beer.

 

“She’s harmless. You met Balthazar.”

 

“True. And I still agreed to see you tonight.”

 

Castiel gave a wan smile.

 

“You did.”

 

There was an undercurrent in the air between them. Dean was sure there was. Maybe there was more to this for Castiel than the patchy reason he had given so far. But then the moment broke, and Castiel cast an eye at the clock over the doorframe.

 

“Talking of, we’re going to be late. And while I don’t care too much about being on time at all, I really don’t want to hear Michael’s opinion on the matter all evening. We should go.”

 

“Right, sure,” Dean left his bottle half-drunk on the counter. “Don’t wait up, guys.”

 

“Sure we won’t,” Charlie grinned. Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand and led him out of the house, walking quickly to where Kevin was waiting at the open limousine.

 

“Sorry. They want to know everything. All the time.”

 

“It’s fine, Dean.” Castiel slipped into the car, and Dean followed a moment later, feeling relieved when Castiel reached across for a bottle of champagne. “I could tell it came from a place of concern. They want you looked after and happy. You don’t have to provide evidence of your spending and future business plans to both your eldest brothers.”

 

Castiel leaned his head right back, along the edge of the seat, and Dean stared at the expanse of tanned neck that was exposed as he did. He forced himself not to act on the urge to lean across and taste it.

 

“What’s up with that anyway? With the whole mystery angle or whatever?”

 

Castiel turned his head slightly and frowned at him.

 

“You mean, why haven’t I committed to either following Michael and Lucifer into their various business interests, or spending time indulging in physical pleasures the way Gabe and Balthazar do?”

 

“Luke’s name is Lucifer?” Dean snorted. Castiel blinked once.

 

“Yes. You can see why he goes by Luke. Regardless, I’m not interested in debauchery. And the politics of business acquisition bores me. The issue is, I’m not sure what does pique my interest. Except maybe for your creations.”

 

Color flushed his cheeks, and he refocused on the champagne in his hand, twisting the cork smartly and pouring into two glasses as though the limousine were stationary. Dean was flattered by Castiel’s comments, but it only confused him even more. Michael had said Castiel was a fan, did that mean he stood a chance? Or was it just his sculptures that Castiel was interested in? He forced himself to focus as he accepted his drink from Castiel.

 

“So, where are we going this time?”

 

“A silent auction. Which I suppose is better than some events. Only the winner gets to boast.”

 

“I take it you’re not bidding on anything?”

 

Castiel took a slug of his drink, seeming to think about it.

 

“I don’t know. The profit does go to charity. It might be worthwhile.”

 

“You could get a boat,” Dean laughed.

 

“I have one.”

 

Of course he did. But Dean heard the tone Castiel answered in. The one that was reluctant to admit he used his money for anything, that showed he was embarrassed to admit owning such an obvious status symbol.

 

“I suppose I could bid on one for you.” Castiel carried on in the same monotone. Dean snorted.

 

“What am I going to do with a boat? Besides, you’re already spending enough on me.”

 

Castiel cleared his throat, and sealed the hatch between them and Kevin.

 

“If you don’t mind, Dean, I’d rather even Kevin didn’t know about our deal.”

 

“I didn’t mean that,” Dean tugged at his collar, feeling suddenly hot. “I meant with the ice hockey, and the suits, and the statue and the champagne and stuff.”

 

“Still. Please don’t mention it.”

 

“Okay. I have a couple of questions though.”

 

“I thought you understood-”

 

“No, no I get it,” Dean hated this, but he had to push through. “I know how you want it when we do these things, but you met my brother and sister. Charlie’s a techno god, Sam can spot a lie a mile off. I guess I wanted to know what to tell them so they don’t dig and hack my email or my cell and find out the truth. They’d go crazy at me.”

 

“Oh.” Castiel looked out of the window for a moment, before smiling back at him. “Tell them whatever you want. Just make sure they’re not going to tell anyone else.”

 

“So I can say you’re my boyfriend? Because they think we’re on a date right now and that way they’ll just talk about my dating life.”

 

It was the next best thing to actually asking him out, Dean rationalized.

 

“Could you just say that we’re dating? Because if I’m at these things with Meg and there’s press, that might create more questions.”

 

Dean had forgotten about Meg. But Castiel was offering him something he could use, even if it wasn’t real. It was enough to get on with.

 

 

*

 

 

Dean had lost track of time when they finally pulled up outside the house he shared with Charlie and Sam. The evening had definitely gone better than their first attempt, although it did kind of blur together. Castiel had insisted they finish off the bottle before going in, and then Dean had found himself on a stretch of red carpet, posing for cameras and forcing a smile, before being accosted once again by Gabriel and Balthazar who thankfully kept their hands to themselves. Then Castiel had sought out yet more alcohol and that’s when Dean lost track of time.

 

He remembered a lot of laughter. Even as they pulled up outside the house, they were laughing, and Castiel was leaning into him, looking relaxed for the first time since they’d met. The car stopped, and before the door opened, Dean let go of all of his inhibitions in a rush of endorphins and alcohol-fueled confidence and kissed him, sloppy and open-mouthed against Castiel’s closed lips. Then, without waiting to see Castiel’s reaction, he had turned and tumbled out of the car.

 

He knew he rang the doorbell for ages before Sam answered grumpily, wearing just a pair of plaid pajama pants, and then he was in his bed … and that was it.

 

It was morning now, and Dean couldn’t piece together much of the night before. He was lying in bed, going over and over the events of the previous night, trying to remember what _had_ happened. It still felt like a dream, in some ways, being with Castiel. The alcohol helped that along, sure, but Castiel inhabited a whole other world. One that Dean wasn’t sure he quite fitted into.

 

“Good, you’re up,” Charlie’s voice was too loud. Dean gripped his head and groaned.

 

“Dude, if you can’t handle me talking, you maybe shouldn’t read any newspapers, or look at the TV. Definitely don’t go online today. You know what, fuck it. We’ll have a duvet day and Netflix something real cheesy.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I’m talking about you and your boyfriend at that fundraiser yesterday. I’m talking about the red carpet pictures and the shit you both pulled in there.”

 

Dean groaned again.

 

“I don’t even remember. I just remember champagne.”

 

“I mean, I don’t think it was that bad, but apparently you pissed off Luke Novak. And Michael isn’t that happy about it either. You should be proud.”

 

“Talk me through it slowly.”

 

“Wait a minute. We’re not talking like this.” Charlie shoved him over and crawled into his bed with him, tucking her head under his chin and cuddling up to his chest like she had done since she was small. He curled around her the way he always had done and stroked her hair absent-mindedly. “Okay, so according to the gossip sites, you were trying to outbid someone who already won at the silent auction thing you were at. Like, both of you were. And then Castiel won another bid and you made an acceptance speech. They had to escort you off the stage.”

 

Dean strained to remember any of what his little sister was telling him, but he couldn’t. Not really. He vaguely remembered somewhere around the fifth glass of champagne that Castiel had decided they were going to bid on something together, but the rest … he grabbed his phone and found a series of messages from Castiel. Charlie sat up and read through them with him. He had evidently woken up a few hours previously, and immediately gotten involved in the drama. But his messages were reassuring. He had spoken to Michael and Luke already, at different points and apologized for their behavior, telling Dean he thought their drinks might have been tampered with. He also reassured Dean that he would definitely be able to use the villa they had bought, any time he wanted. And Dean had a momentary flash of a memory. Of picking a villa in Greece for them to buy at the auction, and urging Castiel to bid.

 

“You’ve gone on two dates with the guy, and you bought a house together?” Charlie snorted.

 

“He bought it. He bid on it.”

 

Charlie shifted along the bed, resting her chin on his chest and looking at him with a serious expression on her face.

 

“Dean? Don’t shut me out but … Castiel, is it serious?”

 

“It’s been two dates, Charlie.” Dean reminded her.

 

“I know.”

 

“He doesn’t want to rush anything.” Dean bluffed.

 

“You bought a house together!”

 

“We’d been drinking. A lot. Guy has champagne on tap.”

 

“Dean, it’s not going to be like it was with Benny, is it?”

 

Dean sucked in a breath, and looked at the ceiling.

 

“Can we not?”

 

“You haven’t dated in so long Dean, not since him, and I’m just worried that-”

 

“Benny and me, we didn’t communicate. Both got the wrong end of the stick, you know? It’s not like that with Cas.”

 

“Okay, okay!” Charlie rolled away from him, jumping out of the bed. “I just want you happy, Dean. You know that right? I want to know this guy is going to make that happen.”

 

Dean swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat, and nodded.

 

“Thanks Char. But maybe give it more than a few days, right?”

 

She nodded, and gave a small smile.

 

“I’m going to make you a hangover cure. You’d better message him back.”

 

Dean smiled and returned to the phone in his hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean managed to finish the sculpture over the next couple of days. Which felt like a feat when he hadn’t stopped texting Castiel, grinning goofily at his phone as he did so. Sam had banned their communications over dinner, and then Dean’s phone had gone silent when Castiel went to yet another event, this time with his friend Meg.

 

“So, how many more pieces do you need to make before the show?” Sam asked politely as they tucked into some fried chicken. Both of his siblings had tried to avoid mentioning Castiel since the events of the silent auction, as though they were worried Dean was already in break up mode.

 

But it really hadn’t been like that. Instead, Dean had found Castiel more open than ever. It was as though, since Dean’s sloppy and drunken kiss, Castiel had been more willing to talk, and to flirt. Dean was just trying not to get his hopes up.

 

“About three. I’ve got the time though. I’ve been working on some stuff.” He nudged a sketchbook, and Charlie grabbed it, flicking through it just as Dean remembered some of the sketches that were in there. Not just designs for sculptures … there were some detailed drawings of Castiel as well. She looked up at him, and he wanted to burn the notebook.

 

“You got it bad.”

 

“Don’t,” Dean sighed. “Please, just don’t.”

 

“Dean, when was the last time you sat there and sketched a guy?”

 

Sam was now sliding the notebook over, flicking through it as he chewed on a chicken leg. His eyes bugged open and Dean was aware he’d probably hit the few detailed sketches he’d made of himself and Castiel and all the things he wanted to do to the guy. He snapped the book shut, still chewing on his chicken. Dean couldn’t even look at him.

 

“It’s not like that.”

 

“Oh, come on Dean! You’re like a teenager every time your phone goes off with a message from him. You’re drawing him. You’re defensive about telling us anything. This is just like-”

 

“Fine, fine,” Dean couldn’t take anymore Charlie. “So I like him. So what?”

 

“So you’re going to get hurt.”

 

“And you just know that, huh?”

 

“The guy’s a billionaire, Dean. I just don’t see what you have in common.”

 

Dean snatched up his plate of chicken, and his sketchbook, and walked off to his room, eating his chicken one-handed as he started etching in the book, venting his frustrations through a stick of charcoal. Sam came in and sat with him after a few moments.

 

“She’s just worried. You know what she’s like,” Sam started. Dean merely grunted in reply. “And you got secretive like this over Benny, and look how that turned out. She’s just trying to watch out for you, you know?”

 

Dean tore another strip of meat off the bone, chewing his chicken rapidly.

 

“For what it’s worth,” Sam carried on as though Dean had contributed in any way. “I like Castiel. I think he seems like a good match for you. It’s just, when you get all secretive like this, it’s not a good sign. You can trust Charlie and me, you know?”

 

Dean nodded, and swallowed his mouthful.

 

“Honestly, Sam, it’s just happened so fast. I’m still getting to know him. I’m trying not to get too involved, too quickly, you know?”

 

“Yeah. Especially when he buys you new clothes and gets you in the President’s box at the ice rink and buys your art before he even really sees it.”

 

That made Dean pause for a moment. Because in the few days since they had first met, Castiel had seemed calm and measured and unwilling to act spontaneously, but Sam’s words made him seem reckless like his party brothers. And then there was Castiel’s wish to leave before they’d even gone to the first event. Maybe Castiel wasn’t as together as he had assumed.

 

“He was just trying to be nice,” he told his brother instead. “You know, it’s like the billionaire’s version of candy and flowers.”

 

“I’m surprised you went along with it.”

 

Dean shrugged, hating how close to the truth Sam was. Ordinarily he hated huge displays of affection, or people throwing their money around. But it was different with Castiel. Sam hadn’t been privy to those moments where Castiel said how much he hated the position he was in. But at the same time, it felt like Sam was close to prying the truth from him. It was hard, after all, to resent a man from using his money when he was paying you to spend time with him.

 

“I guess, when the right guy comes along,” He shrugged again. “Besides, Cas isn’t showing off, he just doesn’t know any better. You have to allow for these things when you’re dating a billionaire.”

 

Sam merely looked at him, his eyes wide and expressive and letting Dean know just what horseshit that was.

 

“Come on, Sam. I’m not going to do anything stupid just because he got us nicer seats at the game. He’s not putting out yet-”

 

If there was anything guaranteed to make Sam squirm, it was the idea of his brother with another man. Not that Sam had any objections whatsoever to the idea of Dean being gay - he had been even more supportive than Charlie when Dean brought his first boyfriend home - but the physical elements seemed to press too many of his buttons. Sam spooked easily. He had barely dated himself because of it. Dean sometimes wondered if his brother was allergic to romance.

 

“Well, alright. Don’t dwell on him all night.” Sam stood up and made his way to the doorway. “Maybe you should start doing that sheet metal design? The one that almost looked like scales. I liked that one.”

 

Once his brother had gone, Dean finished his chicken and his latest sketch. He checked his phone one more time, saw that there were no new messages and headed down to the studio to begin the next structure.

 

He put the TV on as he spread his tools out on the bench, and caught some awards ceremony. He felt a weird pull in his stomach when he saw Gabriel and Balthazar in shot, surrounded by beautiful, scantily-clad women. And there, just behind them, was Castiel, bending slightly to talk to a woman with wild, blonde hair and a rounded face. She was pretty he supposed, but she looked completely bored even as she leaned closer to Castiel. The camera moved away, and Castiel was lost again, but Dean was still staring at the screen.

 

He tried to calm himself down. Mentally berating himself because he knew Castiel was at this thing with his friend Meg, knew that Castiel had referred to her several times as an old, childhood friend. His best friend. And yet, he couldn’t help it. He was jealous. Even though he knew he would have hated the award show, the cameras and the boredom, Dean was still pissed that this girl got to spend time with his Castiel and he was stuck in his studio, passing the time. He was still annoyed that she had all this history with Castiel, that she knew him so well, that they looked so comfortable together. He grabbed his mask and welding torch and started it up, heading over to some sheet metal and venting his frustrations on the next sculpture.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Dean had lost track of time. The world could have ended and he wouldn’t have noticed. All he knew was the heat of his torch, the red glow of warmed metal, the sizzle of the cooling baths, the smell of corrosion. He was sweating heavily, his shirt long since discarded, his vest clinging to his body as he moved around the framework.

 

He only stopped when he noticed Charlie on the other side of the piece, waving and giving a timid smile. He turned off the torch and flipped up his mask.

 

“What?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his face, smearing sweat everywhere. She stepped a little closer.

 

“Castiel’s here. He’s taking you out tonight? He said he’d messaged you to let you know he was coming.”

 

Dean frowned. He had come to the studio at about ten at night, how was it already time to go to their next function? Had he worked through the night again? He looked around and saw his untouched lunch sitting on the table, as Charlie looked as well.

 

“When did you start working on this?” She asked softly.

 

“Ten. At night. On Wednesday.”

 

“Thursday now, dude. You did it again.”

 

Dean nodded.

 

“Um, so … he’s waiting in the front room with Sam.”

 

“Okay. I’ll go get ready.” He turned his equipment off, and headed back into the actual house, making his way into the room where Castiel was waiting for him. Castiel looked up as he entered the room, his crystal blue eyes sparkling with warmth, though his expression remained serious.

 

“Hey. Sorry, I kind of got carried away on my latest sculpture. Give me fifteen minutes to clean up?”

 

Castiel nodded, and checked his watch, not saying a word. Dean wondered, briefly, if he was in trouble somehow. He raced up the stairs and into the shower, stripping off as soon as the door was closed and grabbing the shampoo as he started the flow of water. He didn’t like the idea of rushing, but he also didn’t want to let Castiel down by being any later. As soon as he was done, he was in his towel, and dashing across to his room, searching through his things for one of the suits and throwing it on, and then stumbling back down the stairs, throwing his hands out to show he was ready, panting as he did. Castiel still didn’t smile, his eyes scanning over Dean as though he were probing for something.

 

“Ready to go?”

 

Castiel nodded, and stood up, following Dean out of the house and towards where Kevin had the limousine idling. Dean wondered whether he would ever get used to this set up.

 

“I don’t have anything to drink,” Castiel said quietly as they climbed in the back, and Kevin shut the door behind them. They both settled along the small back seat, rather than spreading out along the bench. “After what happened at the auction, I thought it might be a smart move.”

 

Dean felt his face growing hot, like Castiel was telling him off. He had thought maybe Castiel was upset about his time keeping, but maybe it was from the unprovoked kiss. Although if that were the case, then would he have been so friendly in his texts? Dean didn’t want to ask and have all his daydreams shatter. Until it was said, he and Castiel could still be a possibility.

 

“Yeah, good call,” he mumbled. “What are we doing this time?”

 

“It’s a dinner. Meg refused to do it.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“She finds my family painful enough at the best of times. I think she reached her limit last night, already.”

 

Dean merely nodded, and Castiel surprised him by reaching over and clasping his hand.

 

“Once we’re done with this dinner, and the dancing afterwards, can we go somewhere and unwind?”

 

Castiel was looking at him with wide, innocent eyes, but at least this time there was emotion in them. Castiel was clearly worried, and trying to repress that worry.

 

“Sure. Got some place in mind?” Dean tried to sound casual.

 

“Depends on who drives me crazy, I guess.”

 

“It’s just one night,” Dean reminded him quietly. “One more obligation down, right?”

 

Castiel finally smiled at him.

 

“That’s a fair point. Okay.”

 

He took a deep breath in, and released it slowly, Dean watching him the entire time.

 

“Are you still nervous?”

 

Castiel leveled him with that inscrutable look. The one that made Dean wish he knew him better, beyond anything he could gleam from text conversations. The way you know someone from spending time together, seeing them when no one else did. But Castiel had a poker face that a gambler would be proud of, and he raised his chin arrogantly before speaking.

 

“I suppose I should be nervous after the spectacle we made of ourselves last time we were around my family. But actually I found that very entertaining. It’s the usual dread.”

 

“Ah. Well, we could have some fun tonight? Sober fun. Loudly explain to me which fork to use when.”

 

Castiel gave him a tight-lipped smile.

 

“Dude, what’s up? Did I embarrass you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Is it because I had to rush and we’re late? Because I totally got carried away, I’ve been working on my latest project for about twenty hours straight.”

 

“If we had more time, I would like to see that,” Castiel said softly. “And maybe my sculpture.”

 

“Maybe when we get back?” Dean offered, and leaned closer. “So, you’re not mad at me for kissing you?”

 

Castiel’s gaze darted downwards, and then back up, and he set his jaw, letting the silence go on for so long that Dean thought he wasn’t going to acknowledge anything. But he spoke before Dean could scramble to say anything else, pushing the button for the divider to go up and exclude Kevin from the conversation.

 

“I think that when we get back to your place I would love to see your work. If you’re not too tired. And no, I’m not mad at you. I hired you, I should have exercised more caution with what we were doing.”

 

The bottom fell out of Dean’s stomach. So that was it then. Castiel definitely viewed him as a rental instead of an equal, and although he had suspected as much, it didn’t feel good to have that fact confirmed. But he still wanted to make Castiel happy, so he regrouped, and made himself smile, keeping his mind on the fact that this was purely business.

 

 

*

 

 

The meal wasn’t so bad, from Dean’s perspective. The entire table was given over to the Novak brothers and their dates. Michael and Amara kept to themselves most of the time, murmuring in each other’s ears as they cast glances around the room; Lucifer and Lilith loudly talked about their possessions and acquisitions so others on neighboring tables could hear; Gabriel and Balthazar were schmoozing with their impossibly gorgeous dates. It meant that Dean and Cas were left mostly to their own devices. After the tension in the car, Dean could see Castiel gradually relaxing, and that made it easier for him to do his job. Even as the exhaustion from being up for so long finally began to set in.

 

“Dude, what is this?” Dean whispered pointing at his appetizer. It looked like paint on his plate, with a piece of half-cooked chicken in the middle. This was rich people food? There was maybe one bite on the plate.

 

Castiel consulted the menu card. “A fresh, seared scallop with asparagus gel and a pancetta crumb.”

 

Dean blinked.

 

“I thought the only people who talked like that were pretentious chefs on cooking shows?”

 

Castiel gave him one of his wry smiles.

 

“I believe we’re being catered by a three-times Michelin chef. So expect more of the same.”

 

“I’m going to be hungry after this, aren’t I? I skipped breakfast and lunch.”

 

Castiel speared his scallop, and placed it on Dean’s plate.

 

“That was not your fish fork,” Dean muttered.

 

“And how would you know that?”

 

“All plebeians know which fork is for what course. And what a scallop is. We just like messing with the aristocracy.” He deadpanned. Castiel smiled at him, and reached for his wine glass. He had been bluffing and Castiel knew it, although he did know enough to start from the outside in. And, well, it would be rude not to eat Castiel’s food after he’d given it up so willingly, right?

 

The rest of the meal was more of the same, each dish having the same kind of lengthy description and all presented in a minimalist style on the plate, in forms Dean was unfamiliar with. He was pretty sure he’d been given a tiny block of potato jelly, for instance. But he was hungry, and soon Gabriel and Balthazar caught on, sending their plates his way so they could indulge in some Cognac that had appeared at their section of the table. Clearly they were intent on having a liquid dinner.  They and their guests were being so loud that Michael and Luke were glaring at them with distaste, but that meant they were all completely ignoring Dean and Castiel. So Dean was perfectly at liberty to look at Castiel as much as he wanted, whisper with him between courses, sit close beside him and breathe in his aftershave …

 

And then the meal was finished and there was slow piano music, accompanied by violins and a harp. People at nearby tables were getting up to dance, swaying together on the dance floor encircled by the tables. Castiel filled their wine glasses up, and they turned to watch everyone dancing, their heads bent together.

 

“So, this wasn’t so bad.” Dean pointed out. Castiel shrugged.

 

“It never seems bad when you’re here.” He mused. Amara appeared before them then, looking down at them expectantly.

 

“Castiel, we’ve barely had the pleasure of talking to your new friend. Dean, would you accompany me on the dance floor?”

 

Dean really didn’t want to. But Amara was Michael’s wife, and Michael seemed okay, and Dean guessed that talking to her might help Castiel in the long run. He stood up and offered his hand, walking her onto the dance floor and holding her loosely around the waist as she draped her wrists around his neck.

 

“So, Dean. You and Castiel seem close already.”

 

Dean wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He didn’t feel close to Castiel. And he’d only met Amara once before, at the silent auction, he didn’t see how she could make that decision. He didn’t want to say anything to jeopardize their deal either.

 

“He seems more comfortable with you than I’ve ever seen him.” Amara pushed. Again, Dean wasn’t so sure about that. Castiel seemed uptight to him. Restrained. He was more open through their texting.

 

“He’s usually wound pretty tight then, huh?”

 

“Yes, and very quiet. But you seem to be able to make him talk. You make him smile. And he doesn’t seem able to take his eyes off you. Can’t say I blame him.”

 

Dean ignored the last comment. It was strange that his family noticed all these differences, when to Dean it still felt like there was a huge gulf between them. Amara’s words didn’t help, they only served to make him want Castiel more and that was a potentially dangerous road to go down. He looked back at their table, expecting to see Castiel watching them, but instead it looked as though he was in a heated discussion with Lucifer. Dean watched as Castiel strode away, and pulled away from Amara.

 

“I should go check he’s okay.”

 

Amara looked at the table as well, seeing Luke glaring at Castiel’s back, but Dean was already moving, excusing himself through the crowds. He caught up with Castiel by the entrance, where a few guys were smoking huge cigars and talking loudly about their offshore accounts.

 

“Hey, is everything all right?” He asked softly, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel led him out of earshot of the cigar smokers, before turning around, his expression strained.

 

“It’s fine, Dean.” He choked out.

 

“Doesn’t seem like it. You wanna talk?”

 

“No.”

 

Dean wasn’t sure what else to say. Castiel didn’t seem fine, he was holding himself stiffly, his shoulders hunched and hands in tight fists by his side. Ordinarily, Dean would start rubbing his arms, his back, give a quick massage to try and help soothe him, but he still wasn’t quite sure where their boundaries lay. What if he did it and Castiel not only rejected him, but also called off their deal? He didn’t want to not see him again.

 

“You need a drink?”

 

“I want to go.”

 

Dean nodded.

 

“We can do that.”

 

He followed Castiel to the valet area, where they called Kevin and the limousine forward. As soon as the door shut behind them, Castiel removed his tie and slumped on the carpeted floor. Dean scooted along the bench, and finally, in the safety of the back of the limousine, reached out to touch him, rubbing his back gently.

 

“What did Luke say?”

 

“Doesn’t matter. Kevin? Please just drive around for a while. And raise the partition.”

 

The screen slid up, leaving Dean and Castiel alone in the cramped car.

 

“Looks like it matters,” Dean said quietly, unsure if Kevin could hear them. Castiel rolled over and looked at him, a sad gleam in his eyes.

 

“It’s nothing you have to worry about.”

 

“More pressure from your brothers?” Dean guessed. Castiel nodded, and Dean lowered himself, squeezing himself onto the floor beside Castiel. They were pressed together between the leather bench and the row of glasses and iceboxes protruding out of one side, but Dean made himself concentrate on the lights above them, on the roof of the car. “Well, how about we do something? Instead of moping in the limo while we drive around, let’s go do something you can actually enjoy without someone breathing down your neck and telling you how you should be doing it?”

 

Castiel shuffled even closer, and Dean turned to look at him, their noses bumping together. And then Castiel was pressing his mouth against Dean’s, sliding his hand gently along Dean’s neck to caress his hair, and Dean finally melted. He didn’t know where this was coming from, but he had been wanting it since they had met, had wanted Castiel to want him back. Castiel was shifting, lying on top of him, pressing him against the floor of the limousine, and Dean tugged him closer, wrapping his arms around Castiel as he pushed the limits and opened his mouth. This time, Castiel seemed happy to join in, and their tongues tangled together, their breathing growing rapid. Their mouths moved in sync and their hands exploring underneath jackets, caressing silk shirts, feeling hot skin through the flimsy material.

 

Dean didn’t know what had brought this on, didn’t know why Castiel was finally giving him what he wanted, but he was embracing it, his chest burning as he realized that Castiel wanted him back. Only hours before he had been sure that Castiel saw their relationship just as a business transaction but now it seemed he had been wrong. This mysterious, sexy, quiet billionaire … wanted him. And he was falling hard; especially now Castiel had opened this possibility up. He could feel this way; it was safe now because Castiel wanted him back.

 

He lost track of how long they stayed on the floor of the limousine, kissing like teenagers, hands roaming over each other’s bodies like they could learn everything about each other. But neither of them pressed for it to go further, like they were both so happy to just know the feeling was mutual to want to rush. Eventually, Castiel sat up, and sighed.

 

“We should get you home. And you promised to show me the sculpture.”

 

Dean merely nodded, unable to speak at all, as Castiel sat up and rapped on the screen. Kevin didn’t slide it back down, and Dean realized he knew exactly what Castiel wanted, and must be winding his way back to Dean’s place. He began to sit up, suddenly unable to meet Castiel’s eye. He didn’t trust himself not to fall even further if he did, even as Castiel reached out and brushed his hand through Dean’s hair gently. God, he was cute.

 

At Dean’s place, he let them into the studio quietly, and they wound their way through the equipment and other sculptures to the one that they had met over just two short weeks before. Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand as he looked at it.

 

“You work quickly.” He noted.

 

“No, I … I guess I tend to throw myself into things. I just get locked in, you know? Charlie and Sam usually try and keep me on a routine but every now and again I just get totally sucked in and forget myself. What day it is, how long I’ve been going, you know?”

 

“And that happened last night with another project?”

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

He still couldn’t look at Castiel. Even as they stood there, holding hands.

 

“It’s gorgeous, Dean. You could charge me a hell of a lot more than you are.”

 

“You think?” Dean looked away from the statue, to his work-in-progress. “Cas, you’re already spending so much on me.”

 

“You’re worth it.”

 

Dean finally looked at him again, and saw the fire in his eyes, making the blue sparkle. He felt a jolt in his gut. It was wrong to want someone this much when you still barely knew them.

 

“I get like it with people too,” he choked out. Trying to remind himself. “I get sucked in and I forget everything else. Even if I don’t get anything back. That’s why Charlie and Sam are like they are, they don’t want me doing the same thing over you.”

 

Castiel’s eyebrows rose, obviously not expecting Dean to be so candid. And then he gave back a little as well. Just a little.

 

“Every time I see you, it’s like I’m reminded how gorgeous you are. Dean in my head doesn’t match up. And I’m always worried I’ll say the wrong thing, that you don’t like me like that. I thought you were just being nice to Michael, making the effort with him when he told you I admired your work.”

 

Dean’s heart was thudding harder in his chest. Castiel did want him back. One of his many mysteries was solved. They stepped forward at the same time, colliding in a mess of passion, crumbling onto the studio floor as they tangled together, losing track of time once again.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean came to slowly, a nagging pain in his lower back bringing him back to consciousness. He reached around, and pulled a lump of metal out from under him. He frowned at it, and then tossed it aside sleepily, hearing it clunk across the floor. Was he taking his work to bed with him now?

 

“Ahem.”

 

The fake cough brought him around much more quickly. He blinked his eyes open to find Charlie and Sam glowering down at him, the roof behind their heads full of exposed beams and hanging creations. He’d fallen asleep in the studio.

 

“Crap, did I miss the thing with Cas last night?” He croaked, and rubbed his face roughly. “Think I dreamed that we went-” he stopped himself as his dream came back to him. And the end of the dream, where Cas confessed to liking him too. Where they made out for ages, and came back to the studio … and that’s all Dean could remember.

 

“No, you went.” Sam said shortly, looking pissed off. “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

 

“Um, I tanked, I think.” Dean blushed. “I was up nearly forty-eight hours, Sammy.”

 

He sat up and looked around then, and noticed that Castiel was long gone. Had Castiel even stayed the night? Dean didn’t think they’d even had sex, just fooled around, making out on the dusty floor. His suit - which he’d slept in - was completely filthy, and crumpled. Ruined. A couple of thousand dollars worth of couture washed down the drain, and Dean had no regrets.

 

“Dean, this is starting to go the same way it did with Benny.” Sam pressed.

 

“I think he likes me.” Dean replied. “Like, really likes me.”

 

Sam and Charlie exchanged another look, and Sam walked away, Charlie bit her lip.

 

“Dean lets … lets just focus on the art show, okay? We don’t have long. We’ll go eat breakfast and then you can work on the last few pieces.”

 

He hated the patronising tone. Did they not see Dean and Castiel’s connection? They never even met Benny; he was just a concept to them. But he knew that pointing all this out would only make Sam and Charlie worse. Instead, he cleared his throat.

 

“I’m going to shower and change first.”

 

“Good idea,” Charlie nodded, and flitted out of the studio. Dean searched in his pockets for his cell phone, but the battery had died over night. First thing he was going to do, even before the shower, was plug it in and look for messages from Castiel.

 

 

*

 

 

As far as Charlie and Sam knew, Dean dedicated the next couple of days exclusively building up his pieces for the show. They didn’t know he had sneaked his cell phone into his pocket or that he was messaging Castiel at every opportunity. Their texts were getting increasingly soppy, and Dean could feel that buzzing in his chest just thinking about the messy-haired billionaire.

 

But despite the flushes of new love, Dean had actually managed to progress pretty well with his work. Maybe that was what kept Charlie and Sam off his back. He had a week until the show, and he was already putting the finishing touches on the last sculpture that he wanted to include in his showcase. Just in time for the last event that Castiel wanted to bring him to, a catwalk show for some client of Michael’s.

 

In some ways, Dean was upset that it was the last time he would be doing anything with Castiel in this capacity. He didn’t exactly enjoy the pretentious people and opulent surroundings that made up Castiel’s world, but he really liked Castiel. He was at least looking forward to what would come next, to taking Castiel out on a real date. He would take Castiel to his favorite art gallery; maybe have a tour of Castiel’s place. He wanted to curl up under a blanket with him, a cheesy movie blaring as they ignored it to make out on Dean’s sofa. It would all have to wait until after his show, which of course Castiel was invited to, but that just gave Dean more time to plan some real dates.

 

There was one last surprise waiting for him, but this time, it didn’t come from Castiel. Dean walked into the main section of the house from the studio after finishing his last sculpture, intent on grabbing a beer. But he never quite made it into the kitchen, because Michael Novak of all people appeared in the doorway, a suit bag in his arms.

 

“Hello, Dean.” He nodded his head, and looked at Charlie, who was loitering behind Dean, eager for gossip. “May I speak to him privately, please?”

 

Charlie squeaked, and left the room, though Dean doubted she would go very far. Michael watched the door closing, before he turned back to appraise Dean.

 

“Please forgive my intrusion, and any insult you may feel at what I’m going to say.” Michael gestured to the sagging, plaid-covered sofa and Dean sat next to him warily. “I’ve been watching you carefully, these last few weeks Dean. You and my brother. And though I was doubtful when he first mentioned that you would be attending with him on occasion, I could see very quickly that you and he are very well matched.”

 

“Uh, thanks?” Dean was flattered, of course. But he wasn’t quite sure where Michael was going with this.

 

“You’re welcome. I hope to see you a lot more often. With him, of course.”

 

“That’s up to Castiel.”

 

“Of course. But you still want to see him?”

 

Dean didn’t know whether to be offended by Michael’s presumption or not. He decided to play it safe.

 

“Yeah. Sure I do. But I think Cas is hoping that he doesn’t have to do any big functions for a long time.”

 

Michael pursed his lips until they were hard to see, and stayed that way for an uncomfortable amount of time. Dean privately wondered if he’d broken him, but then Michael was speaking in a low voice, as though he were aware Charlie might still be listening in.

 

“Castiel is aware - I have tried to make it abundantly clear to him in the last few months - that he needs to make more of an effort to represent himself at these fundraisers and social events. Our family depends on full attendance, particularly when Gabriel and Balthazar use them as an excuse for their deviant behavior and when Luke continually attempts to network with unsavory connections in order to undermine everything that I, and our father, worked hard towards. Castiel has a vital role to play in our family and its time he stopped shying away from it. I don’t expect you to understand why he needs to, but I do need you on board to help, Dean.”

 

“Why me?” Dean blurted out. He wished Michael would be a little more specific.

 

“Because, you temper him well. He seems relaxed around you, which means he finds it easier to network. And because I don’t trust Meg. That girl is working to her own agenda, and it’s not one I approve of. I’m worried that she’ll set him on a path he won’t be able to turn back from.”

 

Dean was surprised at this. He thought Meg was meant to be Castiel’s friend? He said as much to Michael, who looked away with an agitated expression on his face.

 

“Yes, well, maybe that was true when they were children, but there is reason enough to be wary of her now. Anyway, the real reason I came here was to give you this,” he offered the suit bag. Dean unzipped it, and found yet another tuxedo. “It’s the Armani. I made Lisa adapt it to your measurements, they keep them on file.”

 

“I don’t think Cas wanted me to wear this. He already picked out some outfits for me.”

 

“I understand, but my brother didn’t even consider this for you. And when I mentioned it in front of him - and you - I could see that he was kicking himself for not doing it. Trust me, Castiel would want you to have it.”

 

Dean took the bag, feeling clumsy and awkward. Had Castiel really liked the idea of him in this tux? What made it so different to the other suits Castiel had chosen? Michael stood up, and headed to the door, and Dean followed him still clutching the suit. Just inside the front door, Michael looked back at him.

 

“For what it’s worth, Dean? I’m rooting for you. I want you to make my brother happy.”

 

Michael left and Dean leaned against the door, thinking. Was Michael being sincere and giving Dean his blessing? Or was there some hidden agenda? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he had to start getting ready for the catwalk, whatever Castiel’s brother was playing at.

 

 

*

 

 

Dean couldn’t bring himself to wear the suit that Michael had brought over. As grateful as he was that the Novak’s seemed to want to shower him with gifts, he wasn’t sure how to explain it to Castiel that his elder brother had bought him the suit. It felt different as well, to when Castiel bought him things. With Castiel there was an understanding, and Dean never felt cheap, or poor. With Michael, the suit seemed to come with an expectation. And that made Dean empathize with Castiel even more, because if Dean was feeling like that over a suit then he couldn’t even begin to imagine how pressured Castiel felt.

 

When Castiel came by this time, he seemed impatient to get into the car. The partition was already up, and the moment Kevin closed the door behind them, he fell on Dean, kissing him hard, pulling him closer. And Dean wasted no time in kissing him back, sneaking his hands underneath Castiel’s jacket and feeling the heat of his body through his thin shirt. They were tangled together, barely on the seat; time passing too quickly for Dean’s liking as he lost himself in Castiel’s touch and taste. When the limousine stalled, they quickly separated, and tried to make themselves look presentable. Or at least make it look like they hadn’t been making out heavily in the back of the limo for the thirty minutes it took them to arrive.

 

The catwalk and the socializing around it was torture. Not because of Castiel’s apparent social anxiety, but because Dean didn’t want to be separated from him, didn’t want to go without kissing him for a minute, let alone a five hour event. At least Gabriel and Balthazar were there to provide a welcome distraction from the sexual tension that Dean was feeling. He was even grateful when Balthazar laid a big, slobbery kiss on his cheek, and then went prancing off after two scantily clad models. Balthazar and Gabriel were also a welcome distraction from their other brothers, both of whom Dean could tell wanted to take him aside and talk to him. Michael, he guessed, would want to know why he wasn’t in that damn suit. He had no clue what Luke would possibly want to say to him.

 

When they finally got to leave, Castiel wrung his hands nervously as they waited for the limousine to swing around.

 

“Everything okay?” Dean asked him. Castiel nodded, and then shrugged.

 

“It’s just … would you be okay if we didn’t go back to your place? I’d like to take you somewhere else first.” Castiel blushed, and Dean smiled back easily.

 

“Sure. I’m not ready for tonight to end.”

 

Castiel gave a small smile, which disappeared as quickly as it came, and then the limousine was in front of them, Kevin already running along for the door. Dean climbed in as Castiel talked quietly with Kevin, and then they were off, although Dean wasn’t sure where they were going, exactly. It soon didn’t matter, because Castiel fell on him again, restarting their earlier tryst.

 

The car stopped before they could get too hot and heavy, and Castiel pulled away with a glint in his eye.

 

“We’ll continue this in a moment. There’s something I want to show you first.”

 

They climbed out, and Dean took in the scene before them. They were at the docks.

 

“Uh, are you sure you wanted to be here?” Dean double-checked.

 

“Quite sure.” Castiel nodded primly, and took Dean’s arm, dragging him along past the commercial boats and towards a small marina full of large, expensive looking private yachts. Dean realized where they were headed, and wondered why Castiel wanted to show his boat when he always seemed to shy away from his fortune. But he said nothing, as Castiel directed him up a gangplank and onto the deck. The white façade seemed to glow in the moonlight, making it easy for Dean to follow Castiel around the deck and towards a door that led into the hull of the boat.

 

“My crew aren’t here to pilot it, so we won’t be going anywhere, but I would like to give you a tour.”

 

Of course Castiel’s boat had an actual crew. Dean was starting to feel a little inadequate, but he followed Castiel into the control room, the mess room, the bathroom, and the study, of all things. Then they came to the bedroom.

 

It was a sad fact that this rarely used bedroom on a luxury yacht was so much nicer than his bedroom. The walls were lined with shiny polished wooden panels, there were thick gilt borders and on the bed were pristine white cotton sheets. Castiel turned on the small lights by the bed and smiled nervously at Dean in the soft lighting, sitting slowly onto the mattress.

 

“I’ve never actually invited anyone in here before.” He said shyly.

 

“I’m honored.” Dean could feel a lump in his throat.

 

“I actually hate that tonight is going to be our last night attending functions together,” Castiel said wistfully. “I’ve really enjoyed my time with you. I would have enjoyed it more without my brothers, of course, but without them I wouldn’t have had a reason to ask you to come with me in the first place.”

  


“It’s just our last night playing nice with your brothers at these things. I thought we were going to see each other properly? We could still fit in some of these events. Without paying me this time. Just you and me.” Dean knew he probably sounded pathetic, like he was clinging onto some kind of fantasy. He knew that going to any more of these events would be Castiel’s idea of torture, but he would gladly go to a thousand more just for the company. He was crazy about Castiel.

 

“We could start now?” Castiel cocked his head to the side, and patted the bed beside him. “Right now what I want to do is be with you.”

 

Dean didn’t need asking twice. He stepped forward, cupping Castiel’s head in his hands, and bent down, relishing the feel of the billionaire’s lips pressed against his own, the way Castiel’s hands stroked down his chest and stomach like he needed warming up. And then they were shedding their clothes, pressing their skin together, rolling around on that expensive bed with no concern except for getting closer, embracing each other, making up for all those nights they saw each other and did nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean was inundated with things to do for the art show in the days that followed. He was one of three artists being exhibited in the gallery, along with a painter and a clay sculptor. Sam had taken a few days off of work to help out, and Charlie had a thick folder of information and spent all her time trying to organize everything, he - and they - were working their asses off to get everything ready in time. There were sculptures to move and put in place, meetings with the gallery owners and other artists, and information to hand over so that each piece had a small placard beside it, full of total bullshit about Dean’s inspiration and choice of materials. Hauling the pieces alone was a huge effort, as they were both heavy and delicate. Sam had taken to muttering some choice phrases under his breath as Dean criticized and instructed him, puffing with the effort each creation needed as he did so.

 

 He had barely checked his phone in days. Every time he went to check it, Charlie was there, reminding him of another meeting, or another task that had to be done before the art show. He was desperate to talk to Castiel, to resume their normal texts, to just have a few words on the screen, but the art show demanded so much of his time. He had managed to glimpse the screen when he went to bed, but there didn’t seem to be any messages from Castiel. He wasn’t sure what he could say, late at night when his brain was pounding, when it didn’t seem like Castiel had messaged him. He had tried, explaining that he was busy but looking forward to seeing Castiel soon, but there was no reply, and no time to worry about what Castiel’s silence could mean.

 

The night before the show, everything was finally in place, and Dean drove his brother and sister home, stopping briefly at a nearby burger joint to treat them to a meal. They sat around the dining table and devoured the food like they’d never had a burger before, all the tension of the past few days simmering out of them. They were all silent as they ate, except for the rustle of greasy paper or the occasional smack of lips, and Dean found himself thinking about the last time he had seen Castiel. About the boat, and the way they had worked with the gentle rocking of the waves as they connected, about the silkiness of Castiel’s skin and the way it felt against his own. That fresh scent of Castiel’s cologne that seemed to be everywhere around him. The way he owned that room, owned Dean, took charge and didn’t seem nervous at all about what they were doing. It was the first time - the only time - that Dean had seen him confident, and it was when they were making love. And it was without a doubt, the sexiest thing Dean had ever seen.

 

They had slept on the boat, and woken up in each other’s arms, looking at each other without talking because somehow words didn’t seem to be enough. Dean would never have been able to express how he felt about Castiel that morning, how much his heart had thrummed in his chest, how at peace he felt despite that. How gentle Castiel was as he traced a finger along his jawline, like he was tracing Dean’s features into his memory. Kevin had slept in the limousine then drove Dean home that morning without a word. Castiel had given him one last, lingering kiss, out in the open, by his front door.

 

He checked his phone again, but there were still no messages from Castiel. Dean wasn’t sure how many more texts he could send without any response, but he tried anyway, letting Castiel know that everything was set up for the show and that he missed him. And then, out of idle curiosity, Dean checked his personal bank account.

 

Castiel had sent the money, making adjustments for tax. The number seemed unreal. They had had four dates and Dean’s account now stood at $4,000,453. It scared him a little, seeing the number. At least this was one that Charlie didn’t have access to, he couldn’t face her questioning. But it also, inexplicably, felt final. Like there was no more reason for Castiel to see him now that he had been paid, especially with the radio silence. Dean tried to push the thought from his head, and instead tried to remember how it had felt on the boat when he saw Castiel’s body, naked and glorious. How his skin had tingled and his heart had almost beat out of his chest when Castiel had slid into him, holding his legs apart and gazing at him with laser focus. That was what he wanted to hold on to from Castiel. Not the cash, not all the contracts. The way they connected on a deeper level was far more important.

 

Dean was pretty sure he was in love.


	9. Chapter 9

“I just love this piece! The way the jagged metal pieces come together to make a whole, like the imperfections create something perfect, don’t you?”

 

Dean smiled tightly at the hipster talking to him. Like he wasn’t aware of his own creations, or his motivations for creating each one. Sam had particularly hated this piece. It had been painful to put into position, even as they wore thick gloves to move it about. He had been louder in his disapproval of it. _“_ _Why don_ _’_ _t you just call it_ _‘_ _Fuck You, Sammy_ _’_ _and explain to all the art enthusiasts out there that this is a punishment for your long-suffering brother?_ _”_ But they had persevered. And Dean had bought him a bunch of beers for the trouble. Sam had still recommended dumping it if it didn’t sell, but that might have been because one panel scratched his arm when they were first getting to grips with it. Dean had apologized, and patched it up, but Sam liked to hold a grudge.  


 

Tonight, Dean was in the Armani suit. It had seemed like a shame not to use it, and he liked Michael well enough. It didn’t hold the same power as it may have done on one of Dean and Castiel’s dates. And yeah, okay, he did look pretty damn good in it. A few people had given him a second glance during the evening but none of them were messy-haired billionaires with piercing blue eyes and a slight case of social anxiety. Dean couldn’t care about any of them.

 

Charlie caught his attention about an hour into the show, and grinned at him as she came closer, arms outstretched for a hug. He caught his baby sister up happily.

 

“It’s going great, Dean! There’s so much interest in your stuff! And everyone loves the one you sold to Castiel.”

 

“Good news,” Dean kissed her cheek, and she pulled away from him, grabbing two glasses of Prosecco from a passing waiter.

 

“I know, right? You’re definitely the most popular artist in the show,” she didn’t bother keeping her voice down, and the painter nearby shot them both a filthy look. Then Dean spotted the man behind the painter, who was examining his cog piece carefully.

 

“Hey, Char, I’ll catch you up later, okay?” Dean didn’t wait for an answer before he pushed through the crowds, and over to the man.

 

“Nice choice of attire.”

 

“Thanks. Is Cas here?”

 

Michael gave him a forced smile. Maybe Dean had been a bit over-eager. Perhaps he should have indulged in a little more small talk first, or thanked Michael for the expensive suit. He would have offered to pay Michael back, but then explaining where the money came from would have been awkward.

 

“Yes, he’s here.” Michael didn’t sound happy. “Is this one of your works? It’s very interesting. I can see why you’re considered an ‘up-and-coming influential artist’. Maybe my brother understands more about investments than we’ve given him credit for.”

 

Dean didn’t know what to say back. Did Michael know about his arrangement with Castiel? Michael looked away from the cog man and continued talking before Dean could try and find more banal conversation.

 

“How much is this?”

 

Seven thousand dollars. That’s all Dean had to say. But he couldn’t, his brain was like cotton wool. Castiel was here somewhere and Dean hadn’t seen him. And Michael didn’t seem impressed by that fact, even though he had told Dean he liked the idea of them as a couple. He had bought the suit that Dean was currently wearing in a bid to please Castiel. He cleared his throat, and tried to pull himself together.

 

“It’s yours.”

 

Michael looked surprised.

 

“Dean, no. Don’t lower your self worth to appeal to my better nature. I’m not entirely sure I have one.”

 

“It’s however much this suit is worth.” Dean said obstinately. Michael pressed a finger to his lower lip, his gaze passing over Dean like a scanner.

 

“Are you trying to barter?”

 

“I pay my dues.” Dean folded his arms. “You got me this suit, you can have this sculpture. And I’m not lowering my self-worth, I still charged Cas for the sculpture he wanted.”

 

Michael gave another tight smile.

 

“I’ll give you two hundred.”

 

Dean wasn’t obtuse enough to think he just meant two hundred dollars. Unfortunately.

 

“Don’t be stupid.”

 

“It will raise your profile. And your work merits that kind of price tag. Maybe I see you as a good investment also.”

 

How was Dean supposed to explain to Charlie that Michael bought the cog guy for two hundred thousand dollars? He saw Michael’s gaze flicker away briefly, before he cringed and looked back to Dean. But Dean had already turned to see what had bothered Michael, and he felt his stomach drop out of his body. Castiel was there, looking more gorgeous than ever, in a suit accented by a turtleneck. A girl was clinging to his arm, laughing freely. Not just any girl, but Meg. She looked slightly different in real life, but that wasn’t what removed Dean’s stomach. It was the way she was draped all over Castiel, the way she was trying to catch his attention when she had just noticed Dean.

 

He didn’t even excuse himself from Michael, but drifted over to where they were standing, next to a huge ceramic urn decorated with faces. The clay sculptor was talking about her muse, or influences, or some hippie-dippy thing that Dean had tuned out of in the last few days of meetings.

 

“Ah, this is Dean, another artiste! Dean, this is the enigmatic Castiel Novak and his beautiful bride-to-be, Meg Masters.”

 

Dean quickly acquired a new stomach, only to lose that too. Castiel didn’t even look at him, as Meg pretended to be flattered.

 

“You’re too kind! Isn’t she too kind, darling?” Meg fluttered her eyelashes at Castiel, before leveling her gaze at Dean. He could tell by her expression that she knew exactly who he was. “And hello, Dan. Nice to meet you. Are you part of the show?”

 

She had just been told his name. She was definitely making a power play. And she didn’t even freaking need to.

 

“Tell me how he proposed again!” The other artist gushed, completely oblivious to the situation. Why would she know? Who would believe someone like Castiel would go out with someone like Dean?

 

Dean got another stomach, one that wanted to empty its contents out into that stupid fucking urn. Castiel had proposed? When? Before they had sex on his yacht? Before they made their deal? After Dean had basically admitted how into Castiel he was? None of it made any sense. But Meg was in her element, holding her hand out to show a sizeable diamond ring, confirming that Castiel had, indeed, proposed.

 

“It was amazing, so romantic. We were on the deck of his boat, two days ago, and he made me a candlelit dinner, which we ate under the stars. And just before dessert, he said he didn’t know how to live without me and he didn’t want to, and all these wonderful things about me, and then he proposed.”

 

Castiel was looking fixedly at his new fiancé, avoiding Dean’s eye contact completely. This was why he hadn’t received any texts since that amazing night. Had Dean completely misjudged it? Had it meant more to him than it had to Castiel? Oh God … did this mean Dean was so bad in bed that Castiel would rather marry someone else than see him again?

 

“So when’s the wedding?”

 

Dean didn’t even recognize his own voice. And he definitely didn’t want to know _that_. He wanted to be far, far away from this situation. No wonder Michael hadn’t wanted to talk about Castiel. He must have been aware how much Dean liked him, how crushed he was going to be. Castiel still wouldn’t look at him, as Meg smirked.

 

“In a few months, I think. We’re just enjoying being engaged at the moment, aren’t we Clarence?”

 

“Yes.” Castiel sounded like he too, wanted to be anywhere else except in this conversation. But he was the one to turn up to Dean’s art show with Meg, to parade his engagement in Dean’s face. Yes, Dean had invited him, but he hadn’t asked for this. Castiel owed him an explanation, at the very least. The girls began talking about Meg’s ring, and Dean hooked his hand around Castiel’s elbow, pulling him away from that crappy urn. Meg let him go reluctantly, and Dean forced himself not to puke, or yell as he turned to Castiel.

 

“You’re engaged?”

 

“It’s complicated, Dean.” Castiel still wouldn’t meet his eye.

 

“You could have warned me.”

 

Dean was aware of someone approaching, standing by his side.

 

“Would you really have appreciated a text message to communicate the fact I’m now engaged?”

 

“I would have liked something. You could have told me on the boat.”

 

Castiel colored slightly, looking at his feet.

 

“I didn’t know then.”

 

“You didn’t… how could you not know?”

 

“It’s _complicated_. And I don’t owe you a thing.”

 

It didn’t sound like Castiel. Dean mouthed at him wordlessly, as the person beside him put an arm through his.

 

“Dean? Let’s go. There’s a dealer who wants to talk to you.” Charlie’s voice was small.

 

“I think you do,” Dean hissed, ignoring his sister, no longer caring about saving face. “I put myself out there for you.”

 

“And you were paid well for it.” Castiel’s tone was cutting, his eyes flashing in warning. Charlie started tugging on his arm, coaxing him away from the confrontation. But Dean wasn’t budging. He felt white-hot rage starting low in his gut. He couldn’t believe Castiel was mentioning the money. He hadn’t even wanted it in the first place.

 

“You didn’t buy my affection, Cas,” he growled.

 

“No, I bought your time and your company.”

 

“He paid you?” Charlie squeaked. Dean closed his eyes. He had never wanted Charlie to know about the money, or their arrangement.

 

“We had a deal,” Castiel acknowledged her, unafraid to make eye contact with his sister, but still not looking at Dean.

 

Dean lost it. “Yeah Cas, we had a deal. But you knew it wasn’t about the money for me!”

 

“But you still accepted my money. And now you need to accept that I’m going to marry Meg.”

 

Dean didn’t know who this guy was in front of him, but it wasn’t his Cas.

 

“You know what, Cas? I hope you’re happy with her. I really hope you are. I hope you enjoy all those boring networking events together. And I hope that you remember that however much you spent on me, you still couldn’t buy a friend. Four million dollars, and you’re in the same place you always were.”

 

Dean walked away before he could hear Charlie squeak at the amount, before Castiel could offer a rebuttal. He pushed through the crowds and all the sycophants, all the poseurs and people with more money than sense. And then he left his own art show, pulling his tie off as he went, dumping the expensive jacket that came with so much expectation on the sidewalk as he broke into a run and headed home.


	10. Chapter 10

To Sam and Charlie’s credit, neither of them brought up the money. They had stayed at the show, and when they arrived home, they had let him sleep. The next morning, Sam brought him breakfast in bed, sitting beside him on the mattress as he poked at the eggs.

 

“You did really well last night, you know,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “Sold three pieces. Apparently Cogsworth sold for two hundred thousand and there was a bidding war on the two other pieces when all the collectors realized.”

 

Dean pushed the eggs away. Michael had inadvertently done him another favor. He was sick of favors from the Novak’s.

 

“People really wanted that swirling statue as well, the one you said Mom had inspired. Everyone was pissed off that it was sold before the show.”

 

“Hmm.” Dean wasn’t even sure what the noise was supposed to mean. He started gnawing on a strip of bacon like it was jerky. It tasted like cardboard.

 

“You could have gotten a lot more for that one.”

 

All things considered, that statue had given him far more than he really wanted to deal with. Over four million dollars, a few nights of tense awkwardness, one night of great sex, and an aching heart. He wasn’t sure a statue of his mother was really worth all that.

 

“I shouldn’t have sold her. I should have sold the glass heart.”

 

“I thought that was a constant work-in-progress?”

 

Sam had a ridiculously good memory for these things. And he’d also reminded Dean that now was probably the time to open up that delicate cage and add Castiel’s name to the suspended heart. He couldn’t work up the energy to do it. He could only just work up the energy to lie to his younger brother.

 

“It is. But that was Mom.”

 

Sam squeezed his shoulder.

 

“Charlie said, if you want to watch chick flicks and curl up under the comforter today, she’s there with you. I’ll pretend I never knew there were chick flicks.”

 

Dean nodded, and Sam got off the bed, leaving to go to work. Dean gave up on the breakfast, and took his plate downstairs, grabbing a sketchbook and some charcoal at the last minute as well. Charlie was in the front room, cushions and comforters everywhere, beers and junk food laid out on the coffee table. She was gathering the silliest movies from their collection, trying to avoid all the romance stories.

 

“Want some Disney?” She greeted him. He put his sketchbook down and pulled her into a hug.

 

“I want my little sister to know how awesome she is,” He murmured.

 

“She knows. Want a Cheerleader marathon? All the Bring It On movies.”

 

He kissed her forehead, and settled onto the couch as she lined up the first movie, before dragging a comforter with her and covering them both with it. They sat either end of the couch, their toes touching in the middle, as the Toro’s started their enthusiastic cheering. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a great attempt by his little sister to make him feel better. Halfway through the movie, at the weird toothbrush flirt scene, Dean slid his sketchbook onto his lap, found a fresh page, and started tracing the familiar outline of his sister as she smiled goofily at the screen.

 

She only became aware of Dean drawing as the credits rolled, and crawled over his side of the sofa to look, before burrowing down into a hug.

 

“It’s beautiful, Dean.”

 

“My muse helps.” He tried to joke. It felt flat, but Charlie was determined to make him feel better. She snorted with laughter.

 

“And not just my incredible genes?” She ran a finger over the outline of the picture he had just drawn. “Seriously, you could sell your sketches.”

 

“No one cares about that stuff in the art world, Char. Wasn’t so long ago that a woman took a crap in a bed and called it art.” Dean reminded her, and then shifted slightly, putting his arms around her. “I’m lucky enough people want the stuff I throw together.”

 

“I’m lucky enough that they do too. Stops me having to get a real job.”

 

“It’s bad enough Sam has one.”

 

“Ugh, I know. Always has to be responsible.”

 

Dean managed a small smile, and she flashed him a brief grin, before turning serious.

 

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked in a small voice.

 

“I hope so. It’s worse than the Benny situation.”

 

“Yeah, I figured it might be.”

 

They went quiet, and Dean added a few more touches to the sketch. Charlie got up and put in the first sequel, slipping back under one of his arms as it started up again.

 

“They’ll never top Kirsten Dunst naked at the start,” she commented.

 

“You don’t even see her boobs.”

 

“Shhhh, don’t ruin the magic,” Charlie nudged him. “Or if it’s such a concern for you, sketch her fully naked for me.”

 

“Marie Antoinette.”

 

Charlie snorted with laughter again.

 

“We could put that on?”

 

“No, I’m heartbroken. No vaginas. I couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else.”

 

“At least draw me some boobs.”

 

Dean poked her in the armpit, and put his sketchbook away, cuddling close to her as they watched the cheerleaders. He tried to focus on the pep, and the bitching, and the hypnotic routines and ignore the ache in his heart. He had really thought Castiel was the one, had thought they were going somewhere special. He still couldn’t understand why Castiel would suddenly be engaged to someone he had described as a childhood friend. How Castiel didn’t see the beauty of that one night they spent together. What the hell had gone wrong?


	11. Chapter 11

After a few days of watching trash TV under the comforter with Charlie, Dean went back into his studio and started trying to fill the gaps left by his last pieces. He sorted through his sheet metal, trying to think of what to make next. He wanted to do something different. Still a sculpture, still metalwork, but a design he had never tried before. He started trying to bend the metal using his equipment, waiting for inspiration to come to him.

 

Eventually it did, and he started constructing the basic structure, as time slipped away from him, the way it always did in the throes of creativity. Eventually, when the framework for his idea was together and stable, and red hot from the welding torch, Dean headed back into the house. He wanted nothing more than a shower and some comfort food after a hard day’s work. He could hear voices in the kitchen, and stuck his head around the doorway, wanting to check in with his brother and sister and let them know what he was doing. But doing so was a mistake, because they had visitors. Two loud and exuberant visitors.

 

“Dean! You’re here!” Balthazar gestured wildly with a glass of beer, nearly slopping it over Charlie. She pushed his hand back firmly.

 

“He lives here, he works here, of course he’s here,” Charlie rolled her eyes.

 

“Mmm, and he’s covered in motor oil and sweat. No wonder Cassie was all over him, he’s exquisitely delicious. I’d lick him.”

 

Dean made to move away, not in the mood for Balthazar Novak and his crappy flirting.

 

“Dean, wait,” Sam called out after him. “They’re not just here for Balthazar to make inappropriate comments about you.”

 

“I don’t want to talk to any damn Novak’s,” Dean muttered, and headed up the stairs for the bathroom. Sam followed him up, catching him just inside the door.

 

“Dean, I know you’re pissed. I know you’re hurt. I know that, whatever anyone else thinks, it wasn’t about Castiel’s money. But can you please hear them out? At least listen to Gabriel, if you can’t stand being near Balthazar.” Sam tucked his hands in his pants pockets. “Have your shower, get changed, and we’ll order pizzas and talk. I’ll put a three-strike rule on Balthazar. Two more flirts and I’ll kick him out.”

 

“Fine.” Dean caved faster than he expected. But he was trusting Sam, knew how levelheaded his brother was. He wasn’t going to be swayed in the same way Dean had been. So if Sam said that Gabriel had something worthwhile to say, he was going to believe it. “Order it now.”

 

Sam gave him a small smile and went back down the stairs, and Dean stepped into the bathroom, making sure that the door was locked before he peeled his clothes off. The last thing he wanted was for Balthazar to try and see him naked.

 

*

 

When Dean got back downstairs, in his rumpled jeans and a shirt that gave nothing away, the pizza had already been delivered, and everyone was tucking in happily. Dean grabbed a slice of pepperoni and settled between his brother and sister, trying to ignore Castiel’s siblings as he ate.

 

“So,” Gabriel finished a slice of Sam’s favorite, and leaned across the table. “What the hell happened with you and Cassie?”

 

“Cassie is stepping aside to give me a shot,” Balthazar stuck in.

 

“Strike two,” Sam spoke quietly as he passed another slice of veggie supreme to Gabriel. “What did we talk about?”

 

“Well, why else would Cassie suddenly be acting like his life plan included marrying Meg? Meg! That girl is awful.”

 

“Balth,” Gabriel shook his head, and focused on Dean, his eyes taking on that same laser-like gaze of his younger brother. “You know, Balthazar and I have mastered avoiding dealing with Michael and Luke, escaping all the business talk. We tried to take Cassie under our wings but I think he thinks we’re a bit deviant.”

 

“We’re very deviant,” Balthazar smirked. “But Cassie is … how to put it …”

 

“Socially awkward?” Dean supplied with a mouth full of pizza. Balthazar pointed finger guns at Dean. He took that as confirmation.

 

“Yeah, well,” Gabriel picked a piece of sweetcorn off of his slice. “Cassie never did what was expected, and then you came on the scene and we got excited. I mean, he’s always liked your stuff and then he’s managed to get a date with you? It felt like Cassie was doing what he needed, whatever Michael and Luke said.”

 

“And?” Dean was wondering what the point of this even was.

 

“And it makes no sense. None. You didn’t hear him after that first date; you didn’t see the look on his face. He’s crazy about you.”

 

“He made it pretty clear at the gallery that he’s not.”

 

“Okay, forget about the art show a sec, what was he like the time you saw him before that? Was he off with you at all?”

 

The catwalk show. The boat. Kissing in the limousine, and having sex below deck on Castiel’s boat. It had felt like Castiel couldn’t get enough of him. But clearly Cas had moved on.

 

“What are you trying to say?” Sam asked, so that Dean didn’t have to answer.

 

“That I think, despite our best efforts, Michael or Luke has gotten to Cassie. Whatever’s been said, whatever’s happened, Cassie isn’t doing things by himself any more. One of our big brothers is pulling the strings.”

 

And now Dean was thinking back, to every interaction with Michael and Lucifer. Admittedly, there weren’t many with Lucifer, he seemed dismissive at best, but Michael had been there, trying to sway Dean. Buying him suits, talking Castiel up, trashing Meg. Dean couldn’t remember everything Michael had said to him, but he had definitely been Team Dean. Had there been more going on than he realized?

 

“So, even if that’s true, what do you want me to do about it?”

 

“Remind Cassie what it is he really wants,” Balthazar shrugged. “I mean, if you want to. If not-”

 

“Are you about to get kicked out, Balthazar?” Sam interrupted in a sickly-sweet voice. Dean was so grateful to his brother for standing up for him.

 

“How am I meant to do that? Cas and me, we had an arrangement. It’s over now. So how would I justify hunting him down and telling him to leave Meg?”

 

“Justify it?” Gabriel snorted. “I thought you wanted my brother’s ass?”

 

Dean glared at him, and Gabriel stared back, chewing his slice, completely unfazed by Dean’s irritation.

 

“I thought you would want to fight for him. B and me, we’re not here on any other agenda than our baby brother’s happiness. We think you’re key to that. I mean, if he really wanted Meg he would have bagged her years ago. Why now? Why after he’s been with someone who keeps him up at night replaying every moment between you? It has to be something to do with them. And frankly, I’m sick of Michael and Luke’s constant pissing contests.”

 

Dean thought back, to whenever Castiel interacted with his eldest two brothers. His reluctance to talk with them that first time at the golf course, his delight in annoying the both of them at the auction, the argument that Castiel had with Luke at the dinner. Castiel hadn’t said what it was about, he’d only let Dean pry so far before they were making out. Maybe there was something in what Gabriel was telling him.

 

“But if it is one of them behind it, they must have Meg on side. And they must have something over him, to make him go with it,” Dean told the circle of pepperoni on his latest slice.

 

“Right? But you’ll just have to remind him what he stands to lose if he goes through with this. We’ll do what we can to help.”

 

Dean eyed Balthazar suspiciously, and he gave what he clearly considered to be an endearing smile.

 

“Darling, we’re going to help you get your man.”

 

He winked, and Dean sighed. Castiel was worth putting up with the flirtatious brothers … wasn’t he?


	12. Chapter 12

Gabriel and Balthazar had been fairly true to their word. They had decided to ‘take Dean under their wing’ which terrified him, if he was honest. But they did seem to be on their best behavior, or at least, Balthazar was keeping his hands to himself.

 

They kept inviting Dean out partying, which he kept making excuses to avoid, until one day, about a month after he had last seen Castiel, when the family was having a billionaire’s version of a barbeque. Sam and Charlie had also been invited, although Dean wondered how much that was about moral support and how much of it was Gabriel taking an interest in Sam. Since they had met, Sam seemed to talk to him a lot, although he had reassured Dean is was purely on a work basis.

 

“Dean,” Sam had sighed. “I’m not … just because you are … Gabe’s lawyer sucks. We’re talking about me representing him and his assets, that’s all. And occasionally we talk about you and Castiel. Okay?”

 

That was just as bad. What were their brothers saying about them?

 

The Novak’s mansion was huge, and sprawling, and the grounds were crawling with people. Sam gave their names to the security at the gate, and then they were through, following the crowds into the large flagstone courtyard, where a live band was playing bland music and there were tables full of fussy finger foods laid out. More of the same types of people who Dean had encountered at the functions with Castiel were milling around, loudly talking about their profit margins or the influential people they were friends with. So many guests claimed to be close personal friends with Castiel, using his previous privacy to prevent anyone refuting their claims.

 

“I can’t do this,” he muttered. Sam grabbed hold of his arm.

 

“Yes you can. Don’t you want answers?”

 

“ _I_ want answers.” Charlie announced.

 

“No chewing Castiel out,” Sam reminded her. “In case it stops him from falling back in love with Dean.”

 

“I’ll bide my time.”

 

They walked up to a marble balustrade, and sat down in a row, looking over at all the rich and somewhat famous people attending. Gabriel came up to them almost straight away.

 

“Hey, you’re here! I did think Dean was going to chicken out.”

 

“He was. We wouldn’t let him. Where’s Cas?”

 

“With Meg,” Gabriel gestured across the courtyard, and then groaned. “And, oh great, Michael’s on his way.”

 

They all watched as Michael approached, signaling to a nearby waiter to bring them all drinks.

 

“Hello Dean, did Castiel invite you?” Michael asked politely.

 

“I did,” Gabriel smiled smugly. “I needed something to spice this up.”

 

Michael gave one of his tight smiles, and focused again on Dean.

 

“I’m glad to see you again. Do I take it this means that you and Castiel are on good terms once more?”

 

“He doesn’t know I’m here. Yet.” Dean felt himself start to sweat.

 

“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.” Michael glanced quickly at Sam and Charlie. “Please, enjoy yourselves this evening. And try not to get too caught up in Gabriel and Balthazar’s excitement.”

 

Gabriel gave a huge, theatrical wink as Michael strode away, and waited until his eldest brother was out of earshot.

 

“So, Michael’s team Dean?”

 

“I always got that feeling.”

 

“Interesting.” Gabriel cocked his head, watching Michael now chatting to an elderly couple dripping with jewelry.

 

“Why is that interesting?” Charlie asked scornfully. Unlike Sam, she still wasn’t entirely sure about Castiel’s brothers. But she had been right there at the art show when Dean called Castiel out; she had more to be resentful about.

 

“Because it means that Luke’s the one working on Cas.”

 

Dean still remembered that moment at the end of the meal, when he found Castiel and Lucifer arguing. Perhaps it had gone on for longer than Dean had even realized. Castiel had kept a lot from him, and at the time Dean hadn’t minded, because they were getting to know each other better and he was going to find out. He’d been so certain that he and Castiel were just starting out. He thought he would have all the time in the world. Sam and Gabriel were talking again, trying to narrow down what Luke could have said to Castiel to sway him, and how Meg could possibly fit in with their plans. But Dean couldn’t join in. He looked across the courtyard again, and felt a sensation like a punch in his gut. Castiel was there, looking beyond gorgeous, Meg clinging to his arm once again.

 

Dean tracked him like a love-sick puppy, watching as he forced a smile on his face to talk to a passer-by, the way it melted straight off his face when the interaction was over. Had he been like that with Dean and he’d just never noticed before?

 

They passed near the musicians, and Dean watched as Meg pulled him over, wrapping her arms around him, dancing slowly with him. Dean was on his feet, moving without thinking, only realizing what he was doing as he stopped beside them. Castiel turned to look at him without any expression on his face.

 

“Can I cut in?” Dean asked. Meg sighed heavily, but moved away, and Dean caught up Castiel’s hands, swaying gently with him. Castiel still wouldn’t meet his eye.

 

“What are you doing here?” He sounded defeated, like Dean had been hounding him for the past month and he was sick of it.

 

“It turns out that while you were trying to buy my friendship, I actually made some real ones in your brothers.”

 

“That seems highly unlikely.”

 

“And it’s highly unlikely that you’re suddenly in love with Meg.”

 

Castiel’s expression flickered, but his gaze remained focused on the party, which he watched over Dean’s shoulder.

 

“Love is only a recent concept, Dean. And it’s definitely not one sponsored by the wealthier party.”

 

“If you think the way I felt about you is anything to do with your stinking money,” Dean muttered. “Then you never bothered to get to know anything about me.”

 

“The first time we spoke, Dean, you tried to pass off your lunch as contemporary art. You pegged me for an idiot before you tried to get to know me, and you were only ever concerned with learning anything about me once you realized that I was a Novak. Just like everyone else.”

 

Castiel pulled away, and headed back to Meg, not even trying to look back. Dean stood in the middle of the temporary dance floor, watching as Castiel held her close and they started to dance again.

 

He wouldn’t have known what to say even if Castiel hadn’t gone. Because yes, his interest was piqued when he realized he would get to know someone very private, but that hadn’t been the thing to catch Dean’s eye. It was the way he had been the first time they met. Dean had just been too hungry at the time to appreciate it fully. But there was the way he joked about how he might confuse equipment for art, and the way he had reacted to the cog piece that Michael now owned … there was a depth to Castiel that was intriguing. That’s what Dean had fallen for.

 

He wanted to give a rebuttal. Remind Castiel of what was said when Dean showed him the finished version of his statue. Refresh his memory of how intense their kisses could be. Paint a picture in words about how he had felt on that boat. But he was glued to the spot on the dance floor, surrounded by actually happy couples, unable to look away from the guy he was crazy about as he stooped down to kiss Meg briefly. Eventually, someone took him by the arm and moved him along.

 

“Come on darling, off we go, no point needlessly torturing yourself over my baby brother’s terrible choice in women.”

 

It was, perhaps, the first and only time that Dean was relieved to have Balthazar touch him, guiding him back to Sam and Charlie.

 

“It didn’t go well, huh?” Charlie asked, stretching her arms out to her big brother. He let her hug him, but didn’t hold her back. He was starting to feel nauseated.

 

“From what I overheard, it seemed like Cassie thinks of Dean as a gold digger. I really wouldn’t be surprised if Meg put that idea in his head,” Balthazar sighed dramatically, and swiped Sam’s drink, gulping it down.

 

“That’s just perfect,” Gabriel groaned. “Didn’t she say something like that about his college girlfriend too? And he’s always like ‘Meg’s always been there for me, she’s never cared that I’m a Novak.’ Hope you’re prepared to fight, Dean, because she’s going to make it ugly.”

 

‘If that girl was any uglier,” Balthazar started, and then cleared his throat. “Talking of ugly; incoming.”

 

They turned as one to see where Balthazar was looking, just as Lucifer wound through the crowd to join them. He gave them all the same smile Michael had, but on Lucifer it looked more like annoyance that they had shown up.

 

“Were you invited?” He asked bluntly, looking only at Dean.

 

“I have to say, Lucie, that’s a pretty big chip you’re carrying on your shoulder,” Balthazar brushed at an invisible spot on his arm. “How embarrassing, it won’t come off!”

 

“It’s directly related to the stick up his ass,” Gabriel nodded. “Someone really thrust it up there. My money’s on Michael.”

 

“It doesn’t seem quite Michael’s style. I’d bet that Lucie did it himself. He is rather sadomasochistic.”

 

“And he does like it up the ass. No offence, Dean.” Gabriel winked. Dean tried to keep a poker face, because he would actually puke if Castiel had told any of his brothers what went on between them.

 

“No, surely Cassie is the one who takes it?” Balthazar seemed shocked, and Lucifer finally snapped.

 

“Can you two please focus, for once. I assume it was your hair-brained idea to invite the artist? Next time, consult with me.” Lucifer eyed Dean warily. “I suppose now you’re here, you might as well stay, but leave Castiel alone. He’s not interested.”

 

With that, he swept away, signaling to someone nearby that he wanted to speak with them. Gabriel gave a soft snort.

 

“Does he think he’s Dad or something?”

 

“He does seem to be stepping up on the rivalry between himself and Michael lately.” Balthazar was the most serious that Dean had ever heard him.

 

“Yeah. So where does Castiel’s love life fit into his agenda?”

 

Dean turned to look at Sam, who had stayed out of the conversation until then. And though Dean wasn’t blessed with intelligence in quite the same way Sam was, he could still make reasonable deductions, and be only a few steps behind his younger brother. If one of his eldest brothers was influencing Castiel, and using Meg to do so, then there had to be a lot more going on than any of them realized. Something to do with money, or power, Dean would guess. Gabriel seemed to click at the same time as Dean.

 

“Looks like we might have to team up with Michael and do some real digging.”

 

“Ugh, teaming up with Michael,” Balthazar shuddered. “I’m going to be in the shower for a rather long time once we’ve gotten Cassie back.”

 

“We’ll go to Aruba,” Gabriel promised. “But first, Cassie.”


	13. Chapter 13

Dean had been putting off the need to deliver his creations. But the show was over and there were independent buyers of his work. He concentrated first on the small galleries who had bought his pieces outright, and then everyone else until the only statues left were Michael and Castiel’s.

 

He tried to go to the mansion at a time that guaranteed that they would all be out. He would talk to the hired help, drop off the sculptures, and avoid Castiel completely. Or at least, that was his plan.

 

But of course, it didn’t work out. Of course when he rang the bell Castiel was the one to open the door, his facial expressions were all over the place until he managed to get his poker face working.

 

“Hello.” Castiel started to close the door, leaving it barely ajar, and only part of his face still visible.

 

“I have the statues you and Michael bought,” Dean tried to stop his voice from shaking. “You both put this as the delivery address.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Castiel just stood behind the door, watching him, and Dean could feel himself starting to sweat.

 

“So, you still want them? Or did I just waste my time?”

 

Castiel cleared his throat, and then opened the door slightly wider.

 

“You can leave them in the entrance hall.”

 

He didn’t move out of the way, or leave, but stood there expectantly. Dean sighed heavily, and went over to the trailer he’d attached to his precious Impala, carefully lifting Michael’s statue out first, using a hand truck dolly to bear the brunt of the weight and make it easier to manoeuvre his creations over the threshold. Castiel barely stood back to let him in, and watched silently as he unwrapped the statue, taking care to unpick the bubble wrap from the spurs of the cogs. It was a long process, but Dean could be gentle when he wanted, and eventually it stood, surrounded by packing materials. Dean turned to look at Castiel again, trying to swallow down the buzzing feeling in his chest.

 

He should be mad at Castiel. He should be heartbroken. But just looking at the man made him want to close the distance between them and kiss him into tomorrow. Instead, he gestured at the elbow that Castiel had almost touched the first time they met, the point that seemed to draw Charlie and Sam as well.

 

“This is the weakest part. Let Michael know. One of the cogs makes it difficult to strengthen it properly and if that spoke gets damaged, you’ve just got a mass of scrap metal scratching up your floor.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Dean knew Castiel was thinking of the moment he almost touched it, almost ruined it. He had no idea if Castiel cared enough about what he was saying, or if he would let Michael know.

 

“Yeah. I’ll just get yours.”

 

Dean snatched up all the packaging and took his wheels back out, setting the other statue carefully on the loading plate and wheeling it in. Again, he set it down carefully and unwrapped it silently, feeling Castiel’s eyes on him the entire time. This time, once she was unwrapped, he cleaned up after himself and headed out of the door without another word. He packed up the trailer, secured everything down, and made for the driver’s seat.

 

“Dean?”

 

He paused with the front door open, and held onto the edge of the window as he turned to look at Castiel, tamping down his feelings as much as possible once more, even as his heart raced and his stomach fluttered. Castiel was slowly walking across the driveway to him.

 

“Is there anything you need to tell me about my statue?”

 

Dean didn’t know what to say. Was Castiel trying to fuck with him, or did he think it was Dean’s ‘artist thing’ to give a story with each delivery?

 

“She’s sturdy.” He said finally.

 

Castiel stared at him, and Dean felt uncomfortable. What, exactly, did Castiel even want from him? The guy had made it clear he wasn’t interested, that he preferred that Meg, and yet he was prolonging this, knowing it must be agony for Dean.

 

“The base framework under the whorls will make her less delicate,” Dean expanded, hoping it was enough to end that look. “The woman she was inspired by was the same.”

 

There was a flicker, a tiny change in Castiel’s expression. Dean didn’t know what it meant, but he couldn’t stick around much longer, not unless he wanted to make a total ass of himself and throw himself at a man who was taken. He slid into the driver’s seat, but Castiel grabbed hold of the door before he could shut it.

 

“Is it a statue of Charlie?”

 

“No. Our Mom. She died giving birth to Charlie.”

 

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

He was saying sorry for the wrong thing. Dean started his car anyway, waiting for Castiel to shut the door.

 

“I get married in two weeks.”

 

“Congratulations.”

 

“Tha-thank you.”

 

“Uh-huh. I hope Meg makes you happy.”

 

Castiel pursed his lips for a moment, and looked away. Dean took advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration and pulled the door shut, driving off immediately. He made it about two blocks before he pulled up, and raised a hand in front of him. It was shaking wildly. How was Castiel still able to affect him in any way? They’d been broken up longer than they were together, if you could even call it that. And yet, he still hadn’t even begun to get over Castiel, whatever their siblings might believe.

 

*

 

When Dean finally calmed down and went home, it was to find the house once again crammed full of Novak’s. It was becoming impossible to get away from them. Gabriel and Balthazar were there, as well as Michael this time, and Sam and Charlie were hunched over the kitchen table with them, talking intently. They all looked up as Dean walked into the room, and the conversation petered out.

 

“Hey, where’d you go?” Charlie asked as he shut the door and hung his jacket up.

 

“Deliveries.”

 

“Ohhh,” Charlie nodded, and then her eyes widened. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah. Oh.” Dean shook his head and walked around them all to get a beer from the fridge, cracking it open and leaning against the counter, draining the bottle.

 

“Michael, your cog statue will be at home waiting,” Sam announced. Dean tossed the now-empty bottle into the trash and took out a new one, cracking that open as well.

 

“Thank you, Dean,” Michael was the quietest that Dean had ever heard him. He looked over, and saw the eldest Novak looking at him seriously, drinking in his whole demeanor. “If I had known you were planning to bring them today, I would have waited to help you.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“Did you talk with Gloria?”

 

“No.”

 

No one asked the obvious question. It was perhaps easy to guess with Dean’s attitude, and the abrupt answers. And the fact that he had been home five minutes and he was on his second beer.

 

“So, we have a plan.” Sam told him.

 

“Uh-huh.” Dean didn’t even bother asking about it. He knew they were going to tell him whether he wanted to hear or not.

 

“Meg is going to insist on the wedding going ahead. Cassie isn’t going to back out. So, everyone goes on with the wedding, and then you show up just after the start and do that big dramatic scene in the aisle, telling Cas you love him.” Gabriel leaned back in his seat. “Charlie made a good argument for it, with a ton of movie references.”

 

Dean stared at his beer label.

 

“That’s not going to happen.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“Look, Cas would hate it. He’d want the ground to swallow him up if anyone singled him out any more than he’s already going to have to deal with.” He started picking at the bottle label. In all honesty, he was done chasing Castiel. There was no point pursuing someone who was with someone else, who made it clear that they thought the worst of you. But he knew that there was more to the situation for the other Novak’s than Castiel’s love life. “I’ll talk to him, okay? But before, when he’s supposed to be getting ready for the wedding. Away from all the crowds.”

 

“But Dean, if it’s in front of everyone, maybe he’ll reconsider?” Sam pushed. Gabriel reached across the table and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder reassuringly.

 

“Sam, he knows what he’s doing. Maybe he’s right, Cas might freeze up and say nothing.”

 

Gabriel shot him a reassuring smile, and Dean nodded, before slinking up the stairs and leaving them all to it. It was weird that now that he and Cas were over, their families were bonding. If they were actually a couple, it would have been amazing, seeing their families coming together. Like a good omen. Instead, it was an almost constant reminder of what had slipped through his fingers.


	14. Chapter 14

It was the day of Castiel’s wedding, and Dean would have preferred staying home, doing some sketches and working his frustrations out on his metalwork. He was in the middle of a series of interactive sculptures and they had provided a welcome escape from thinking about Castiel. But he had promised the other Novak's, and they had brought him back to their mansion. There was a marquee erected in the grounds, and it was clear that Castiel and Meg were going to get married in his back yard. It was typical of Castiel, to not want the grandeur that so many would opt for with his kind of wealth.

 

Michael walked with him through the house, heading for Castiel’s quarters, where he was getting ready.

 

“Do you know what you’re going to say to him?” Michael asked politely.

 

“No idea.”

 

“Castiel can be stubborn when he wants to be. It’s best not to go at him head on.”

 

Dean nodded, wondering if that had been Michael’s approach with Castiel so far, and how it had gone wrong. Michael came to a stop and gestured at the door in front of them, then walked away with a small smile. Dean didn’t bother knocking, but pushed forward into the room, and bit back a gasp.

 

The Novak’s mansion was huge, easily the size of a mall. But despite the size, it was sparsely decorated, until you got into Castiel’s quarters. His rooms were crowded with artwork. Paintings and urns crowded the walls and floor space, and in pride of place was Dean’s curlicue Mary. It was like standing in a gallery. Looking around, Dean could see so many pieces he had loved, so many works from other artists who were still growing into their potential. How did his brothers not see what Castiel was investing his money in?

 

He pushed forward, past all the stands and glass cabinets, and over to another door, which he opened slowly to reveal Castiel in front of a mirror, his collar sticking up awaiting a tie. He was looking down as he concentrated on folding his cuffs. He didn’t notice as Dean shut the door softly behind him.

 

“Congratulations,” Dean said softly. Castiel jumped, and whirled around, eyes wide open as he realized that Dean was in his room.

 

“Um, thanks.”

 

“So, the wedding’s in a couple of minutes?”

 

“Half an hour.”

 

Dean could think of a few ways he would like to spend that half an hour convincing Castiel that they were right together. But he knew Castiel would not appreciate any it. Instead, he stayed by the door, gripping onto the wooden panels to stop himself grabbing at the scruffy-haired sex god in front of him.

 

“Why are you here, Dean?” Castiel sounded tired.

 

“Look, I know you hate me, I know you don’t want me. I know you think I’m some kind of asshole. But I want to clear the air between us.”

 

Castiel gestured to the giant bed and Dean sat down, sinking in to the luxurious covers. God, having sex with Castiel on this bed would have been so much fun … Castiel settled on the bed as well, a couple of feet away.

 

“I don’t know where you got the idea that I was just in it for your money.” Dean started, trying to keep his tone neutral. He didn’t want a fight. “But I just wanted to reassure you that your money wasn’t the draw. I haven’t touched the money in my account. I’m too scared to; it doesn’t seem real. I don’t know how you cope with so much cash.”

 

Castiel’s lips were a thin line.

 

“And it wasn’t that you were a Novak either. Not … I only read stuff that Sam and Charlie leave them around the house. I only know your name from those. The only thing I got from their magazines about you was that hardly anyone knew about you. And you were letting me in. I got excited by how much trust you were giving me, Cas.”

 

Castiel looked away, at the floor.

 

“I don’t know how I blew it with you. I don’t know what I did or said to make you think I would be that guy. Last thing I knew was that we were both excited about seeing each other without money being an issue. I had dates planned. So, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

 

Castiel looked back at him for a moment, before dropping his eyes like it hurt to look at his face. Dean tried not to get upset over it. He knew from Gabriel, Balthazar and Michael that there was more going on than even they knew.

 

“I mean it. Whatever I did to upset you, whatever I said that you took the wrong way, I’m sorry it hurt you. And I hope that’s not the reason you proposed to Meg. I know you’re close, and … you deserve better than just settling, Cas. You deserve to be with someone you love. So I hope that you proposed because of her. Not to spite me.”

 

Castiel still didn’t answer, or look at him. Dean tried not to get angry. There was a chance that Castiel was processing everything, trying to think of something to say. Dean pushed on.

 

“I hope you have a good marriage, Cas. That she makes you happy every day. And that whatever else, you don’t think of me and hate me.”

 

Dean didn’t know what else to say. He wished he could convince Castiel to leave the wedding behind, to just spend the day with him and remember how good they were together, but he knew there was no way it would happen. He waited for a few moments, before standing up and heading to the door. Castiel finally spoke as Dean reached for the handle.

 

“I don’t hate you.”

 

Dean whipped back around, as Castiel frowned at his dresser.

 

“I don’t hate you either,” Dean reassured him.

 

“But I’m still getting married.”

 

“I figured. You have a lot of history with Meg.”

 

Castiel nodded. They stood quietly for a few minutes, feet apart from each other, and Dean could feel the energy crackling in the air between them. It wasn’t fair. Castiel finally looked up at him, and Dean forgot himself, or he couldn’t hold back any more. He took a few large strides, cupping the back of Castiel’s neck and capturing Castiel’s mouth with his own. Castiel responded straight away, kissing him back almost feverishly, sliding his hands around Dean’s waist as their lips grazed each other. Castiel was the one to slip his tongue through Dean’s lips, licking into his mouth. Dean’s breath stuttered, but he wasted no time in joining in, pressing closer, working his tongue against Castiel’s, embracing the fresh taste of Castiel’s toothpaste and the familiarity of his touch.

 

He knew this was going to break him. That he would pull away from this kiss, or Castiel would, and the wedding would still go on, and he would be in love with someone he had no chance of being with. He knew Castiel probably wasn’t sure of him still. But he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t get enough of the clean scent of Castiel’s cologne or the rasp of their stubble scratching together. If this was going to be their last kiss, he was going to make it count, make it something to remember.

 

He lost track of time, lost track of sense, lost everything to the feel of Castiel pressed against him. It was worth the last few months of pining just for this kiss. It felt like Castiel had wanted it just as much, missed him the way he had missed the intense billionaire. But he knew it was almost time for Castiel to appear in the marquee in the yard, and he forced himself to pull away, to leave behind everything he wanted. Castiel looked slightly dazed.

 

“I should go,” Dean breathed, and turned around, leaving the room before Castiel had a chance to rouse himself or yell at him. He barely looked at Castiel’s mini-museum as he walked away, and only began to slow down when he saw Gabriel in the hallway, loitering nearby. He gave Dean a quizzical look, and Dean shrugged in response before heading back down to the front door. Gabriel fell into step beside him.

 

“Don’t give up yet, Dean. He hasn’t said I do.”

 

“I know. But I’m not going to beg him, and he’s stubborn.”

 

Gabriel patted his back in sympathy.

 

“So he was totally unreasonable?”

 

“No,” Dean swallowed down the memories, fresh in his mind. If he lingered on that kiss, on how it had felt as if it could go on forever, then he might not be able to carry on putting one foot in front of the other. “We cleared the air.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Dean shrugged.

 

“It means he’s still getting married to Meg.”

 

He sped up, not wanting to hear Gabriel’s opinion about it all. It was time to bury his feelings for Castiel and find some way to move on.


	15. Chapter 15

It had been three months since Castiel got married and despite his best intentions, Dean thought about him every day. Wondered what he was doing, if he was happy, if he replayed that last kiss over and over at night as he fell asleep. If he looked at the statue and missed Dean even a little bit compared to how much Dean missed him.

 

He didn’t mention it to Sam or Charlie. He didn’t say anything much, just kept to himself and stuck to his work, only entertaining the most banal of conversation. Topics that were safe included his latest interactive series, Charlie’s latest cosplay attempts, and Sam’s new girlfriend Amelia. The last topic was only included when Sam had gone out to see her and Charlie, who had dubbed her ‘Boremelia’ would make it a competition to imagine the dull dates they might be on. It hadn’t taken them long to decide that Sam and the Bore would do all the uptight, adult branded activities like wine tasting evenings and fine dining. Charlie especially was good at imagining their stereotypically dull dates as she stitched her costumes and Dean sketched his evenings away.

 

But he knew that they knew he was thinking about Castiel. He kept finding himself sketching Castiel, capturing that intense look on his face, or the dreamy expression when he escaped into his own head for a moment. He’d accidentally sculpted Cas once too, a sculpture that was hidden almost as soon as he realized what he’d done. He couldn’t stop them looking over his shoulder sometimes, or flipping through his sketchbooks. But no one had a solution for what to do, so they let him work through it in his own way.

 

It was a rare day when Sam wasn’t working, and Charlie didn’t have any LARPing commitments, that they decided to go to the local park and have a picnic. Sam had made all kinds of rabbit food to pack, and Charlie made sure there were Twinkies and cookies while Dean crammed in as much meat and beer as possible, and they strolled happily enough together, settling in their local park on one of the picnic benches, and eating as they watched kids play on the nearby jungle gym.

 

“So, Sam, how’s it going with B-, um, with Amelia?” Charlie blinked innocently, neatly covering the fact she had almost used her nickname. Sam didn’t noticed as he chewed a carrot stick.

 

“Fine. She says she wants to check out an opera some time, I think we’re going to do that on Thursday.”

 

Charlie gave Dean a small kick under the table. He knew it was about the boring opera, but tried to keep a straight face.

 

“Cool. Char, party on Thursday.”

 

Charlie grinned.

 

“I’ll invite your latest pieces.”

 

“What about your LARP group?” Sam tried to join in, apparently not bothered by the idea of Dean and Charlie having a party without him.

 

“Can you picture Dean letting them in the studio?”

 

“No way in hell,” Dean confirmed, and chugged one of the beers.

 

“Okay, so no party. Ooooh!” Charlie bashed the table with the flat of her hand, and then bit into her Twinkie. “We can do a Jenga marathon and watch Buffy re-runs!”

 

“That does mean more beer for me. Deal.” Dean nodded, secretly glad that he didn’t have to pretend to socialize. He had meant the party as a joke.

 

They stayed in the park for a while, finishing their picnic and tossing a ball around, falling into the old game of keep-away with Charlie in the middle, running between her two much taller brothers as they tossed the ball easily between them, trying not to laugh as Charlie launched herself ineffectively at them both to try and get to the ball. The kids in the playground left and the three of them wandered over to climb the bars themselves.

 

“I’m still on the floor,” Sam lamented from the hanging hoops. Charlie laughed as she crawled over the arching ladder.

 

“Serves you right. If you want to be tall enough to play keep away, you have to deal with being too tall for the jungle gym!” She scooted away like the bars were greased, and Dean sniggered as he tried to climb the fireman’s pole. Time with Charlie and Sam made things easier to cope with. He loved his brother and sister so much.

 

Eventually, they started walking home, Sam and Dean still tossing the ball between them as Charlie brought the remains of their picnic. But they all stopped short just outside their house. Sitting in the doorway, looking a little lost, was Castiel, his shirt and hair both unkempt. He looked up as they stopped walking, the bags under his eyes prominent. Dean could feel Charlie and Sam’s questioning looks, but he couldn’t look away from Castiel, who was scrabbling to stand up.

 

“May I talk with you?” He croaked out.

 

*

 

Sam and Charlie had both made excuses to leave them alone. Charlie claimed that she needed to do some more costume prep for her upcoming meet, and Sam suddenly decided to surprise Boremelia with a candlelit dinner at her place. Dean was left alone with Castiel in their kitchen. He had poured them both coffees, and they sat on opposite sides of the table. Dean was holding his mug, so that he wasn’t tempted to reach across the table and grab hold of Castiel. Castiel sat with his head in his hands, ignoring his drink.

 

“You wanted to talk with me?” Dean reminded him gently, after Castiel hadn’t moved for a good five minutes. Castiel moaned, and looked at Dean from between his parted fingers.

 

“I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”

 

Dean watched him, realizing after a moment that Castiel’s fingers were bare. No wedding ring. Had he not gone through with the wedding after all? Was Castiel here to take him back? Because Dean would let him. After making Castiel uncomfortable first to make up for the months of agony he had suffered through without him.

 

“What mistake?” He asked softly. Castiel shrugged, and slowly lowered his hands, finally letting Dean see his beautiful face.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe more than one.” He sighed heavily. “Michael was putting pressure on me to commit to various businesses because – I thought - he had an incentive for doing so. Luke kept telling me that it wasn’t in my best interests, that Michael was only thinking of himself.” He heaved a sigh, and Dean frowned. This wasn’t the reunion he had been expecting. “He said it would be better if … I was so stupid.” Castiel shook his head, and tapped his fingernails on the table.

 

“Better if?” Dean pushed. Castiel sighed.

 

“He persuaded me that it was better to marry Meg and let her take charge. That he knew my heart wasn’t in it but Meg had always been there for me and she was decisive. And when I spoke to her, she said it was a great idea, and she was surprised Luke came up with it.” He snorted derisively, and looked into his coffee mug.

 

“That’s why you married her? Because of something Lucifer said?” Dean was incredulous. No wonder Lucifer had been so dismissive of him. Dean’s presence was getting in the way of whatever it was that Lucifer wanted.

 

“They got me good.” Castiel told his coffee, and sighed again. “I’ve had people use me in the past, Dean. People who were after my money, or my status. And Meg’s been my friend forever, her parents knew my parents. If she says someone’s a creep, I have no reason not to believe her. She’s been proven right before. Although I guess, looking back, maybe Meg framed them. I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe right now.”

 

Dean was a little confused. He knew that Castiel had thought he had been used, that Dean cared more about the money, but he didn’t quite get the point of what Castiel was telling him, or why now.

 

“If you don’t know what to believe,” Dean said cautiously, not wanting to push Castiel away when he had just come back in Dean’s life. “Then why did you come to me? Why are you putting me above your wife?”

 

Castiel flinched, and studied his coffee mug with renewed interest.

 

“My marriage is over.”

 

Dean couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He couldn’t think of what to say. He tried to start a few sentences, without getting further than the first sound. “Whu … huh …”

 

Castiel tapped his fingers on the table again, in a rapid rhythm.

 

“And I’m broke.”

 

He ran his hands through his hair again as Dean took in his words, and thought of another billion questions he wanted to ask. He made himself be patient, and get to the bottom of what Castiel was telling him.

 

“Okay, Cas, start at the beginning. I want to understand what’s gone wrong.”

 

Castiel stopped drumming his fingers, and looked up, catching Dean’s eye for what felt like the first time since their tryst on the boat. Though Dean supposed there must have been moments before Castiel’s wedding when they looked at each other with this intensity. He hoped that Castiel would finally be open with him.

 

“You know my brothers power-play. They were doing it long before you came along, and when you did come along, you somehow became Michael’s pawn. When he was talking about you in that suit, the one you wore to your art show; part of me agreed that you would look so good in that suit - and you did, you were irresistible - but part of me wondered if Michael had set it up somehow, had talked you into agreeing to date me so he could push his agenda.” Castiel snorted softly. “At home, Michael asked about you constantly, about how we met, when we started dating. He was too interested. It made me wary. Meanwhile, Luke was hovering, making off-hand comments about Michael. I thought he was backing off, becoming easier to tolerate. He started questioning your motives. He’s good.” Castiel’s voice went bitter. “It was like ‘so, the artist has agreed to come to an auction and let you buy him an island, Castiel?’ and I didn’t see through it. But then we kissed and it was everything I wanted.”

 

He gave a brief smile, and Dean took a sip of his coffee.

 

“Maybe Luke knew that, despite all his hints, I was falling for you. That I wanted to believe you and the things you said, the way you were with me. And I did, Dean. I trusted you. I liked what we were, where we were going. I liked Charlie and Sam, and the way they look out for you. I don’t think I would have managed without knowing that they were there for you. They probably curse my name, right?”

 

“Nope. We don’t talk about you. It’s too raw,” Dean admitted quietly. Castiel didn’t respond, and Dean took another mouthful of his now lukewarm coffee. “Carry on.”

 

Castiel tapped another finger on the table for a moment, and then obliged.

 

“I suppose that Luke had come to the conclusion that it didn’t matter what he said about you, I was too interested to let it get to me. We argued over that dinner about it, about how naive he thought I was being, how I couldn’t see you for what you really were. So he got Meg on side, getting her to talk to me. That worked a lot better, since it wasn’t one of my brothers. Even after our night on my boat, somehow they convinced me that you weren’t genuine. And then Gabriel and Balthazar made some stupid joke about how I was going to end up with Meg the way she always hung around, and Luke jumped on it and … I don’t know. Somehow he made it make sense to propose to her. Our deal was over, and I knew we had talked about seeing each other again but I thought that maybe it was just the thing you said even if you weren’t going to continue seeing someone. And Meg had me convinced that you had your money, you wouldn’t be back. That the invitation to your art show was some lame way of thanking me, and that your irregular communication was confirmation that you were no longer interested.”

 

“You could have just talked to me. You made me feel like crap that night.”

 

“And I’m sorry. But if your best friend and your brother had constantly trashed me, made you doubt why I liked you, would you really have listened to me?”

 

“Sam wouldn’t do that. So yes.” Dean sat back and folded his arms. Castiel’s gaze dropped back to his still-full mug.

 

“You’re much more fortunate than I am, then.” He gave another snort, and carried on talking. “My engagement to Meg was one of convenience. She knew it as much as I did. I was - am - crazy about you. But she was far more successful than my brother in convincing me that it was better to marry someone who had proven themselves to be reliable and trustworthy than it was to be swayed by good looks and passion. My other brothers tried to change my mind, Michael begged me to reconsider and go back to you. And I’m afraid that sealed it for me, that if Michael didn’t agree with my best friend then it was obviously my friend who was right.”

 

“I like Michael.” Dean offered.

 

“I know.” Castiel took a mouthful of his coffee and winced at how cold it now was. “It only took a couple of days after the wedding for Meg to start asking about money. I thought it was weird, but it was Meg. I trusted her. I gave her access to my accounts. And after a month, I went to check my finances, and my accountant said it was all gone. Next thing I know, Meg’s handing me divorce papers. I never got a pre-nup, which was stupid of me considering the paperwork I put you through. But I didn’t think I had to. Why would I, when Meg’s as wealthy as I was? Michael’s been going crazy the last couple of months, working hard on getting it back for me, threatening to sue Meg’s entire estate. She told him that Luke had set it all up, it’s all in off-shore accounts that apparently even she can’t access. There’s been a lot going on. Michael’s frozen everything Luke owns, he’s said Luke doesn’t get a cent until it’s all back, but I think Meg double-crossed him too. He said today he couldn’t get it back, that it was gone. So I’m completely broke, and I don’t really know who I’m meant to trust at this point. I think the only person I do trust is you. I was stupid to hurt you.”

 

Dean looked into his own coffee mug this time, not sure what to make of all the things Castiel had just told him.

 

“I know I don’t deserve anything from you, Dean. I know how much I hurt you. When you dropped off the statues, it was difficult for both of us. And then when you were there just before the wedding, just trying to prove you care … that’s the thing that I kept coming back to. That you’d done nothing; that I’d been lied to, and you still apologized. You still thought it was on you. But it never was, and I don’t know how I’m going to make it up to you. Even if you don’t want me back.”

 

Dean concentrated on his own breathing. His heart was thudding in his chest, demanding Castiel back, wanting him to jump over the table and claim the scruffy-haired man who owned his heart. But his head was full of everything Castiel was saying, and everything he wasn’t. No, Dean hadn’t been there for as long as Meg, but how could he have been treated with so much suspicion while she was so flagrant in the way she’d backstabbed her oldest friend?

 

“You’re not completely broke,” he finally broke the silence. Castiel frowned at him, and he shrugged. “I haven’t touched the money. You can have it back. What am I going to do with four million dollars?”

 

Castiel’s frown deepened, and Dean pushed on.

 

“I don’t want it. I never wanted it. I only accepted it in the first place because it seemed to make you feel better to offer it. And you don’t know how to cope without it.”

 

“Dean,” Castiel started, and Dean talked over him.

 

“If you’re really going to push me, Cas, I’ll say that you’re the thing I want to spend that money on. It’s yours. It was always yours.”

 

“I’d rather know where I stand with you than worry about my money. Michael and Gabriel and Balthazar have all been uncharacteristically wonderful in the last few months, despite my stupidity. I’m broke, sure, but I still have them keeping a roof over my head. Do I stand any chance with you?”

 

Dean tapped his thumb against his mug handle.

 

“What’s happened with your art collection?”

 

“What?” Castiel sounded perplexed.

 

“It’s relevant.”

 

“It’s at the family home still. I hadn’t moved anything out when I married Meg. We had only just found a place. She also doesn’t have access to my boat, or any leverage to get it. She didn’t take everything. But she has broken my trust. I thought that, because her family was like mine, because of all our history … I thought she was like me. I thought it would be okay.”

 

Dean grabbed Castiel’s cup, and put them both in the sink, tipping away the remaining drink into the garbage disposal.

 

“So you still have my sculpture?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Dean nodded, and turned back around, holding onto the sink behind him.

 

“I’m not making any promises, Cas. I’m sorry this has happened. I meant it when I said I hoped that you’d be happy with her, I’m not gloating now. But I’m also not going to drop everything just because you think you’re ready for me. You have to earn it, this time around.”

 

Castiel nodded slowly.

 

“Can I start now?”

 

“You already have.” Dean decided. “Thanks for finally telling me.”


	16. Chapter 16

Charlie had agreed - very, very grudgingly - to let Castiel come over on their Jenga-and-Buffy night. She had spent days muttering under her breath over it, and Dean tried not to pay too much attention to what she was actually saying. He didn’t want to be put off whatever this was with Castiel, and he already had enough doubts.

 

Sam had made himself scarce, preparing for his own date, and it was a sign of how annoyed she was with Castiel coming that Charlie didn’t even bother saying anything rude about Amelia after Sam had gone for a shower.

 

Castiel appeared before Sam left, wearing a V-neck tee and fitted jeans, and looking more relaxed than Dean ever remembered seeing him.

 

“Hey,” he greeted him at the door. “Didn’t think you owned jeans.”

 

“I don’t,” Castiel confessed. “These are Balth’s. He gave me the top as well. I thought maybe it would make you more comfortable if I wasn’t dressed up.”

 

Dean nodded, unsure how else to respond, and stepped aside for Castiel to come in. Charlie blanked him completely, heading into the sitting room and clacking the Jenga tiles loudly.

 

“Um, if Charlie gives you shit tonight … I mean, it’s not,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “She said she’s never going to forgive you. But that doesn’t mean … I’m glad you came.”

 

“Okay. So I have to win over Charlie as well as you.”

 

“And Sam.” Dean shrugged. “He hasn’t said much, but I don’t think he’s impressed that I’m considering taking you back.”

 

Castiel nodded, not even attempting to argue. Like he knew that his stupid decision to listen to Lucifer and Meg meant that he had to face the collective wrath of the Winchester siblings. At that moment, Sam clomped down the stairs in a suit, adjusting his cufflinks.

 

“Do you think this looks okay?” He asked Dean, blanking Castiel completely.

 

“It looks like you’re going to a funeral. So yes.”

 

“That’s not funny, Dean. I’m going to ask Charlie.”

 

He took a step towards the living room and Charlie yelled through the door, without looking at her brother; “You look like a penguin Sam. It’s an opera, not a zoo!”

 

Sam rubbed his forehead in frustration, as Dean tried to hide his smirk. Castiel stepped closer, still timid in Sam’s presence.

 

“Which opera are you going to see?”

 

Sam eyed him with obvious apprehension.

 

“La Damnation de Faust.”

 

“I like that one. Haunting. I hope you enjoy it.”

 

Sam didn’t look impressed.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Your suit is fine.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Sam turned to his brother. “Don’t wait up for me.”

 

He made to leave the house and Dean held out a hand, a key fob dangling from his fingers.

 

“Take the Impala. It’s bad enough you’re going to some opera and listening to high pitched singing all night, you might as well look good on your way there.”

 

Sam gave him a small smile and took the keys for Dean’s car, leaving the house, and Dean alone with Castiel once again. Charlie bustled into the kitchen, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at them both.

 

“You know, the Impala won’t make Boremelia interesting.”

 

“Maybe not, but I did it for Sam, not her.”

 

“Okay. So are we playing Jenga or what?”

 

“Be there in a second. Do you need a drink?”

 

Charlie nodded, and shuffled back into the front room. Castiel gave Dean a small smile.

 

“That could have gone worse,” he whispered.

 

“You should probably give it more than five minutes. Do you want a drink?”

 

“Beer, if that’s okay.”

 

Dean headed to the fridge, pulling out two beers and one of Charlie’s overly sweet fruit-flavored vodkas. He snapped the tops off, and paused before handing one over to Castiel.

 

“How did you get here?”

 

“Kevin. He was hired by Michael, our limos were from Father and technically now owned by Michael too.”

 

Dean held the beer back towards himself.

 

“Get Kevin in here. The kid’s going to be bored out of his mind just waiting for you in the car, when he can watch Charlie kick our ass at Jenga and enjoy some quality TV.” He tried to look stern. “You don’t get your beer until he’s in here.”

 

Castiel fought a smile, and walked out of the front door, coming back a minute later with a confused Kevin in tow.

 

“Hello again, Dean.”

 

“Hey Kev. Want a drink?”

 

Kevin eyed the bottles in his hands, and shot a quick look at Castiel.

 

“Water will be fine.”

 

Dean shrugged, and passed Castiel his beer, as promised, before grabbing a bottle of Sam’s water out of the fridge and passing it over. He led the way into the front room, where Charlie was slowly stitching together a tunic, splayed out on the sofa with everything set up in front of her.

 

“No, no, you take your time flirting with the guy who broke your heart and ignoring the entire plan for tonight. I’m fine.” She snarked.

 

“Mango and passionfruit vodka?” Dean offered.

 

“It’s a start,” she sat up and tucked her costume away, eyeing Kevin carefully. “Um, Dean, if you’re trying to set me up with someone, you should probably start with my type.”

 

“Kevin drives Cas everywhere. I’m giving him some time off.” Dean perched on the sofa, noticing how closely Castiel sat beside him, and unsure as to whether or not he liked that. He passed Charlie’s drink over, and focused on his own. “Besides Char, you’re a little too old for him.”

 

She shrugged again, and put the first episode of Buffy on, sitting forward for their Jenga battle to start. Dean was grateful that she wanted to get down to business, because Castiel sitting so close was distracting. It was hard to keep it slow and take his time making a decision when their proximity meant that all Dean could really think of was how Castiel’s mouth felt against his. He forced himself to focus on Jenga, especially when Charlie played to win.

 

 

*

 

 

“No! NO!” Charlie yelled as the tower came tumbling down when all she had done was tap a tile. It was their fifth game - and possibly their seventh drink. Or eighth. Ninth? - And Charlie had just lost the first game in her life.

 

“I need a picture. Sam’s never going to believe this,” Dean smirked.

 

“Don’t tell him. Don’t. Oh God, why?” She looked at Kevin, who had given up on playing and was curled in an armchair, watching Buffy. “I blame you. You left me with the lovebirds.”

 

“I like Willow,” Kevin shrugged simply.

 

“I do too. Alyson Hannigan is a total babe.” She thought for a moment. “I was totally distracted by Willow.”

 

Dean shook his head, and stood up.

 

“Bathroom,” he announced, and left the room, glad to be away from Castiel for a moment. It was difficult; he was so close, their legs kept brushing, and Castiel kept finding reasons to touch him. It was like Castiel knew how weak his resolve was and was trying to test it until he broke. And Dean still wasn’t sure about him. Okay, he wanted him, it was physically painful to not kiss him, but he had also been thrown away on a few choice comments from other people who didn’t know him at all. It made him wary. Plus, Castiel’s divorce was barely finalized, and Dean knew there was still a lot going on between his brothers and Meg.

 

He came back in the room to find Kevin snoozing in the armchair, and Charlie long gone.

 

“Where did my sister go?” He asked Castiel.

 

“To bed, She said she couldn’t live with the humiliation of finally losing a round of Jenga. Kevin fell asleep a moment ago. I was hoping that maybe we could talk now.”

 

Dean rubbed his face tiredly, and Castiel backtracked.

 

“Unless you want to go to sleep too. Then we’ll go. I’ll wake up Kevin and we’ll … we’ll go.”

 

Dean hated himself for what he was about to say.

 

“Leave Kevin. It’ll be fine; we’ll put a blanket over him. Maybe we should talk in my room?”

 

Castiel paused for a fraction of a second before nodding, his shoulders sagging in relief. Dean tried not to think about how Castiel was taking it as an invite for more than talking, and instead led the way up the stairs, and into his bedroom. He stood aside as Castiel walked in, his gaze roaming across the sketches pinned to the walls and the neatly made bed, the cluster of charcoal pencils, fine-tipped pens, pastels and paints that littered the top of his dressers. Dean pulled out his chair and sat on it, gesturing for Castiel to take the bed.

 

“This was nice,” Castiel spoke as he sank onto the mattress. “Spending time together without any expectations.”

 

Dean nodded, and started rolling a pencil across the dresser top. He wasn’t sure about the lack of expectations; Castiel seemed to be waiting for something.

 

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Dean asked. Castiel gestured at his crammed walls.

 

“Right now, I want to know: you drew these?”

 

“Yeah. I sketch a lot. Not like there’s any money in it.”

 

Castiel gestured to one drawing in particular, the original idea for the interlocking girders.

 

“Unless you make them afterwards. You’re incredibly talented, Dean.”

 

Dean shrugged, and Castiel folded his hands on his lap.

 

“You know, for someone who says they’re not motivated by money, you mention it an awful lot.”

 

“Yeah, well. I’m the eldest, I’m meant to look after Sam and Charlie. And Charlie had a misunderstanding at her last job and can’t get hired, and Sam’s working his ass off as a lawyer. He’s the one who just about has enough for us to pay our bills. Until the last art show, I maybe sold one or two sculptures a year, which just about helped us out. I care about money enough to keep us in this place, to keep Charlie in her LARP group and keep Sam at his practice. I care enough about money to make sure we can all eat and I can look after the car Dad gave me. The only reason we still all live together is because we can’t afford to live apart. So yeah, I care about money, so long as it has an affect on Sam and Charlie. I care about paying my way. And when you mentioned your money, I thought you were joking.”

 

Dean could feel himself getting defensive.

 

“Then I don’t want the money I gave you back. You need it, Dean. And I don’t, I still live with my brothers, Michael is suing Luke and Meg but he’s promised to look after me. I get why you got on with Michael now. It’s an eldest brother thing, right?”

 

“It’s because Michael wasn’t an ass like I thought he’d be. He was rooting for you, he thought I made you happy.”

 

Castiel edged closer to him, barely sitting on the bed.

 

“You did. And I admit, I didn’t act in the best way possible. I lied to you.”

 

Dean looked over at him, and Castiel smiled sheepishly.

 

“Michael told you I was a fan. I was on the committee for the art award you won. I pushed for you. I’d seen you working, watching from a balcony as you pushed your creations into place. I’ve followed your career from afar for a while. And then Michael insisted I do all these functions and Luke said it was best if I stopped effectively stalking you, and I thought, maybe I could. Maybe if I invited you to come with me, it would mean I could stop just admiring you and start getting to know you.”

 

“That’s creepy,” Dean croaked out, not quite able to wrap his head around the idea that half his career had only come about because of Castiel. That award had meant he could convert their garage into his working studio, it opened it up for the piece in Time, it had earned him that spot in the recent gallery show … he owed Castiel everything. It wasn’t a good feeling. It was like he had been manipulated since before he ever met Castiel.

 

“I know. I’m sorry. I said whatever I could to get you to come with me, whatever would make you want to spend time with me. And you were incredible, Dean. You took it so seriously; you just seemed to care about me. You fuelled my infatuation, however accidentally. Maybe I deserve all this, maybe this is my karma for forcing this situation.”

 

“You know what, Cas?” Dean put his pencil back into its pot, and looked at the tousle-haired ex-billionaire on his bed. “If you had just said you liked me and wanted a date, if you had explained that we’d have to spend some time with your family but we’d have time to ourselves too? I would have said yes. I would have said it a lot faster. I told you I fall fast and hard, that I had for you. I liked you from the moment you saw through all the bullshit and joked that I would end up selling you my soldering iron.”

 

He folded his arms across his chest, gripping tightly to his biceps.

 

“You were funny, that first day. I was so nervous. You’re so much more attractive in real life. And so much more complicated, passionate, and thoughtful. And you can pretend you don’t put the same thought into your work as other artists, but I know that’s not true. I’m sorry Dean, that I didn’t let this develop naturally. And I know you probably don’t want to try again, but I would give anything for one more chance.”

 

Dean looked down at his feet.

 

“I don’t know, Cas. Where’s the guarantee you won’t hurt me again? Because I couldn’t live through this twice, even with Sam and Charlie looking out for me.”

 

“I suppose it’s in the fact that I have nothing else to lose now. There’s no price on it this time. Just two men who are attracted to each other; who want a relationship with each other. Please, Dean. Just let me prove that I’m serious about you. Not the idea of you, but you.”

 

“How’re you going to prove that?”

 

“We’ll go out, and money won’t be an issue. And not because I’ll cover everything, but because we won’t do anything we have to pay for. You can date for free, right?”

 

Dean nodded, and uncrossed his arms.

 

“Fine. You can sleep in my bed tonight, and tomorrow you’ll take me on a freebie date. And I’ll decide after that.”

 

Castiel looked relieved.

 

“Thank you, Dean, thank you so much.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Dean pulled a tee and some boxers out of his dresser. “You can wear this to sleep in.”

 

He went into his closet, and pulled out a sleeping bag from the last time he went camping with his family, laying it on the floor beside the bed and ignoring Castiel’s disappointed expression. If he didn’t, his resolve would weaken and he’d jump into bed with the guy, negating the whole need for the date in the morning.


	17. Chapter 17

Dean woke early in the morning, rubbing his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling, before turning and looking at his bed. Castiel was already awake, sitting cross-legged on the bed and flicking through one of his sketchbooks. It took him a few moments for reality to sink in, and he sat up quickly.

 

“What are you doing?” Dean croaked. Castiel turned another page.

 

“I woke up and found this digging into my foot. I wasn’t expecting it, you’re so tidy, and care so much about your artwork.”

 

“There are sketchbooks all over the house. For whenever inspiration strikes. Doesn’t mean you can look in them.”

 

Castiel looked up from the page he was on.

 

“But you’re incredible, Dean, I keep telling you that. You don’t just capture form; you put life into your drawings. This one of Charlie looks like a photograph.”

 

He turned another page, and Dean scrabbled out of the sleeping bag.

 

“Wow.”

 

“Shut it.” Dean approached the bed, already seeing his first sketch of Castiel. Luckily, it was one of the ones he had done from memory, not from fantasy. But he was only a few pages away from some very graphic material.

 

“Is that what I look like to you?”

 

Dean threw himself across the sketchbook and Castiel’s lap in order to stop Castiel from prying further. Castiel squeaked.

 

“Dean, you’re going to ruin the pages!”

 

“I told you to stop looking!”

 

Castiel laid a gentle hand on his shoulder blade.

 

“I didn’t mean any harm. I’m honored that you chose to sketch me.”

 

“I’m going to get up. We’re going to close the sketchbook. And you’re not going to look in it ever again.”

 

“What else is in there?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

There was a beat of silence, and Castiel started running his fingers through his hair, his fingernails scratching against Dean’s scalp.

 

“Dean? Would you draw me? If I posed for you, I mean. I won’t look at the sketchbook anymore.”

 

Dean took his time answering, enjoying the sensation of Castiel’s fingers roving through his hair. He supposed it was a date activity, and if it kept Castiel away from his sketchbook …

 

“Later.” He grabbed the sketchbook, and stood back up holding it tight to his body. “Right now, I need breakfast.”

 

He slid the sketchbook into a pile on the desk, glad to have gotten it away from Castiel’s prying eyes before he could see the other sketches. Had Castiel always been this inquisitive? Or had he used his position to find out everything else and was somehow frustrated that he couldn’t buy his way into seeing Dean’s doodles? He didn’t ask, but led the way back down to the kitchen, where Sam and Charlie were eating with Kevin already. He could feel Sam and Charlie’s glares burning into him, accusing him, and he ignored them in favor of the coffee pot as Castiel slowly sank into a seat at the table.

 

“Kevin,” Castiel sounded serious. “I’m going to be spending the day with Dean. It’s probably best if you go back home. I’ll make my own way back later.”

 

Kevin stood up immediately, and Charlie waved him right back down.

 

“He didn’t mean right this second. Eat, we’ll hang out for a bit.” She glared at Castiel, as though he was going to challenge her on what his employees should be doing. “I would personally give you the day off and arrange to meet back at the house afterwards, but I’m not a dick.”

 

Castiel met Dean’s eye, and Dean shrugged, passing him a cup of coffee.

 

“Why not? Kevin’s done everything that’s been asked of him. We kept him out all night, it’s the least you could do.”

 

Castiel nodded.

 

“Okay. Kevin, have the day off. You can take the car as well.”

 

Kevin smiled nervously, and looked at Charlie.

 

“What do you want to do?”

 

“Well, there’s a comic con a couple of towns over, we should totally go. I’ve got some outfits you can borrow. Dean, can he wear your hand maiden one?”

 

Dean cleared his throat and pretended to be busy with the eggs. He could practically hear his sister smirking.

 

“That’s a yes, Kev. Come on.”

 

There was the sound of chairs scraping, and Dean carried on making omelets for Castiel and himself, while Sam and Castiel began talking about the opera from the night before. Sam seemed a little kinder towards Castiel than he had been, and Dean listened closely, even though he didn’t know what they were talking about. When Sam brought his dishes to the sink, he clapped his brother on the shoulder, and Dean knew what he was trying to say. That Sam would be okay if they got back together.

 

He took the omelets over, and slid one in front of Castiel, sitting in the seat opposite him to start on his own breakfast.

 

“So, is there anything you wanted to do?” Dean asked him. Castiel cut a neat square from his breakfast.

 

“Apart from posing for you?”

 

“Like I said, later.”

 

“Hmm,” Castiel took a bite of omelet, thinking. Dean couldn’t help himself; he thawed a little at Castiel’s dreamy expression. He spoke to the part of the wall he was gazing at. “I suppose I’ve always wondered what it would be like to go swimming in a creek. Like you read about in books. There’s something romantic about camping outside, embracing nature. I don’t think I’ve ever done that.”

 

“There’s a spot Charlie, Sam and I go to sometimes. Weather might be okay enough for it?” Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. But it was kind of exciting, thinking about camping out with Castiel. Making a Novak sleep out in the elements, cooking beans and hot dogs on a campfire, maybe sketching him in the middle of the woods. “I’ll get some stuff together.”

 

“What would we possibly need?” Castiel sounded baffled, and Dean chuckled to himself.

 

“It’s a surprise. Eat your breakfast, I’ll pack my car.” He resisted the urge to kiss Castiel on the temple as he walked off to find his two-man tent and the sleeping bags. He filled a duffel with some clothes, a sketchbook and some charcoals and ran them down to the sleek black Impala that sat at the back of the property. He headed back in the house and grabbed a cool bag, slinging some food in it, and some beer, as Castiel put his knife and fork gently on the plate in front of him.

 

“Dean? It’s just a swim in a creek.”

 

“It’s a few hours away. It’s better if we camp out up there.”

 

Castiel’s eyes were wide, and Dean snorted as he tried to hold back his laughter.

 

“Like I said, we go there sometimes. You’ll be fine. Come on.”

 

 

*

 

Dean had been singing along to the old tapes in the car as they drove, their windows down and the heat of the day seeping in with the gentle breeze. Castiel had spent most of the car ride in a tense position, but he was finally beginning to relax, to sink into the leather and just let the day wrap itself around him like Dean was doing.

 

He had already tried to encourage the billionaire to sing along with him, but Castiel didn’t know any of the music. As the latest song faded away, he finally spoke up.

 

“Why do you have tapes in the car anyway?”

 

“Because you don’t mess with a classic like Baby,” Dean stroked her cream interior. “Sam tries to douche her up with his iPod every now and then.”

 

“Are they all old songs?”

 

“Yeah, songs I grew up on. Dad played them a lot.”

 

“What happened to your father?”

 

Dean tapped a thumb on the steering wheel.

 

“He bailed on us. Raised the three of us on borrowed credit cards until the feds came after him. He ran, we moved here. He’s still out there, somewhere. Don’t mention it in front of the others, they’re still mad. It almost cost Sam his job, just from the association.”

 

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

“Yeah. What about your folks? What happened with them?”

 

“They disappeared a few years ago. Technically, we can’t declare them dead yet, although we’ve been given control of the assets left to us due to some legal loophole. They might come back, I don’t know.”

 

“Do you want them back?” Dean asked softly.

 

“I don’t know. It’s been the five of us for so long, and even then we’re greatly disjointed. Maybe it would be good if they came back, but it could just complicate everything as well. I’m surprised you don’t know what happened.”

 

“I was never an avid follower of your family,” Dean turned onto a dirt road, nearly at the campsite. “But it sucks they just disappeared.”

 

“So did your dad.” Castiel pointed out. Dean pulled into park, and looked across the car.

 

“Sucks to have that in common.”

 

Castiel nodded, and Dean patted his arm.

 

“Come on. I’ll grab the tent and the food, you get the clothes and the sleeping bags.”

 

They climbed out of the car, and Dean threw the bags at Castiel, before shouldering his own ones and leading the way through the woods and to a clearing beside a small waterfall where they could set up camp. Castiel put his possessions on the ground and wandered over to the brook as Dean started putting the tent together.

 

“Be careful, some of those rocks can be slippery.” He called out. Castiel took off his shoes and socks, and rolled up Balthazar’s jeans before sitting on a boulder, dipping his toes into the water. Dean quickly got the tent up, and their possessions inside, and joined Castiel on the bank, his own socks and shoes a few feet behind him.

 

“I thought you might find the outdoors a little more difficult,” Dean admitted. Castiel swirled his leg in the clear, bubbling water.

 

“We have a lot of grounds. When we were younger, we used to sleep at the edge of the property where we have a small lake. Of course, we had a small cabin out there and we had jet skis on the lake, but it was like camping out.”

 

“That’s nothing like it,” Dean snorted.

 

“What was it like when you came here with your brother and sister?”

 

“Charlie’s a total water bug so she’d already be swimming. When we were younger she would pretend to be a mermaid who lived in the waterfall,” Dean grinned at the memory. “Sam would always bring a book and sit in a tree reading for hours. And I’d set up the tents and get a campfire going and play in the water with Charlie. We’d make s’mores and try to scare the crap out of Sam with horror stories and then go to bed and not be able to sleep because we freaked ourselves out. Its kind of one of my favorite places to come.”

 

Dean picked up a stone from beside him, and skimmed it along the stream and into the pool by the waterfall. Castiel stuck his hand in the water and found another pebble, trying to do the same. It fell back in the water with a loud plop, and Dean laughed.

 

“It’s all in the wrist. Look,” he picked up a stone, and put it in Castiel’s hand, which he then covered with his own. He tried to ignore the way there was almost an electrical charge between them, the way his stomach burned and all he wanted to do was kiss Castiel. He already knew he was going to take him back, was going to stop resisting this, but he wasn’t quite ready yet. Instead, he flicked Castiel’s hand out, and the stone went flying, bouncing across the surface of the water. They watched its progress, and then Dean stood up, heading back to the tent and stripping off. At the last moment, he decided to forgo his underwear as well. The place was remote with hardly any visitors, and it meant his underpants weren’t going to get wet. He took a running jump and dive-bombed into the pool, trying not to gasp at the coolness of the water. He surfaced, pushing the water out of his eyes, and saw Castiel sitting in the same place along the brook, staring at him.

 

“Are you coming in or what?” Dean called out. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

 

Castiel smiled, and walked over to the tent, going inside and hiding under the covers to strip off. Then, like Dean, he took a run and jumped into the water, diving neatly, and resurfacing close to Dean.

 

“The water’s cold!” He squealed, and Dean laughed. Castiel splashed him, and he splashed back, both of them descending into a water war before Castiel grabbed his arm, stroking his bicep. Dean wiped the water from his face and caved, winding an arm around Castiel’s back, pressing close and rubbing their noses together.

 

“Still cold?” He whispered. Castiel slid his hand around his neck.

 

“Warming up,” Castiel’s voice had gone lower, a sexy husk of a voice.

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

They stayed like that for a moment, treading water and holding each other close, until Dean moved, pulling him closer, catching at Castiel’s mouth with his own, their bodies sliding together in the cool water. They began drifting as they kissed, trying to find their rhythm when they barely had it to begin with. But Castiel felt so good pressed against him, that fresh scent of his cologne emphasized by the fresh water. And his lips felt so good, catching against Dean’s, gliding in place, and tracing the outline of his cheekbones and chin before delving back to his mouth again.

 

They were hammered by rushing water, heavy and relentless on their heads, and Dean laughed as he saw that they had ended up under the waterfall … and then behind the waterfall, where the water was calmer, and shallow, and there was a small ledge in the tiny cavern. They leaned against the edge, still kissing, and Dean let his hands roam, caressing Castiel’s surprisingly firm chest, his chiseled abs, his-

 

Castiel gasped, and Dean stopped kissing him.

 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, afraid it would echo and ruin the atmosphere.

 

“Yes. Are we back together?”

 

They looked at each other for a long moment, and Dean pressed close again.

 

“Yeah, we are. If you still want it.”

 

“I do. But um,” Castiel looked out, through the sheet of falling water. “I don’t think we should have sex here. Someone might walk past.”

 

“I’ve never seen anyone out here.” Dean shrugged.

 

“Well, okay. But still, can we hold off from sex? Just for a little while. I know we’re both naked out here, but I want you to trust me, I don’t want to rush this.”

 

Dean gave him a small smile, and lifted his hand to kiss his knuckles. Castiel returned the smile, and fell back into his arms, standing on the jagged bottom of the pool and restarting their kissing session.

 

 

*

 

 

They had swum and kissed for hours, until the day began to cool, and then they pulled themselves onto the bank to dry off, Dean heading over to the tent and coming back moments later with his sketchbook. Castiel eyed it apprehensively.

 

“You wanted me to draw you?”

 

Castiel lowered himself onto the rocks, looking uncomfortable, and Dean shook his head.

 

“Don’t pose. Just be natural, or you’re going to kill your elbows.” He propped the book up on his lap, as Castiel found a position to lay in, his head resting on his arms, his entire body exposed, and taut, and beautiful. Dean stared with his lower lip drooping for a moment, before he rallied himself and put pencil to paper. For some time, all they could hear was the rustling of wind in the trees and the scratch of the pencil on the pad. Once Dean had the basic form of Castiel sprawled on the rocks, he began talking.

 

“So, how’s it going with your brothers?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Balthazar letting you borrow his clothes. Michael fighting for you. Luke setting you up. I don’t know, doesn’t that change things?”

 

“Are we really talking about this when we’re both naked?” Castiel asked. Dean stopped drawing, and smirked at him.

 

“Yep. Laying everything bare.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes, but humored him.

 

“Well, Gabriel and Balthazar would definitely be impressed we were doing this right now. We’ve been talking a lot more since my marriage dissolved. Balthazar hated Meg.”

 

“He called her awful,” Dean agreed. “Never explained why he thought that.”

 

“Probably something from when we were kids. Anyway, Balth and Gabe aren’t so bad. They took me away for a week when I first got the divorce papers, we stayed at a private island Gabe owns and I sulked on the beach the entire time, missing you, drowning my sorrows in Pina Coladas.”

 

“You’re a girl drink drunk!” Dean exclaimed as he shaded in a muscle. “And shit out of luck, I only brought beer.”

 

“I like beer.” They went quiet again for a moment, and Castiel carried on answering Dean. “I think I understand Michael a lot more. Without our parents, he feels a lot of strain. He’s running their businesses, searching for them, and looking out for the rest of us. As much pressure I felt from him, he feels it worse. I’m going to take it all more seriously from now on. He’s training me up on a couple of our businesses, I’ll take over as CEO soon.”

 

“Make your money back in no time,” Dean nodded.

 

“I’m not too fussed about the money. I mean, it almost cost me you, it cost me my best friend, and it nearly split my family. I’m taking on the work to help my brother, not get my money back. Luke and Meg are welcome to that money, if they think it will make them happy. And I’ll work on my relationships with my other brothers. And you.”

 

Dean smiled to himself, and added some detail to Castiel’s hair.

 

“So, awkward question,” he muttered. “You were saying that you helped me get that award. That you’ve known about my work for years. Has any of my work been real? Like, my success? Michael raised the price tag I can attach; we’re doing good since he bought the cog guy. But it still makes me wonder … I mean, am I really good enough?”

 

“Yes. Of course you are, Dean. I was on the committee, you were the artist I nominated, but after that it was a cake walk. We all had to look at each artist’s work and rate them separately. You won by a mile, Dean. You earned it.”

 

“Why didn’t we meet before, then?”

 

“I was intimidated. I couldn’t think of a reason to talk to you, didn’t want to be the kind of fan you would be polite to but ultimately pass off.”

 

“Castiel, you’re gorgeous. I probably would have hit on you shamelessly. I was holding back our first couple of dates. Mainly because you thought I was straight and I didn’t think you were interested.”

 

He stopped sketching, and crossed over to Castiel, bending over him and showing him the sketch.

 

“Done.”

 

“Dean, this is …” he reached up for a kiss rather than finish the sentence, and Dean laughed into his mouth.

 

“Come on, it’s getting cold, and I’m getting hungry.” He headed back to the tent and grabbed his clothes, shoving them on and starting up a campfire as Castiel got dressed in the tent, before coming out and studying the picture as Dean set a tin over the flames, joining him on a nearby fallen trunk.

 

“This was a really good date, Dean. Thank you.”

 

“It’s okay. And it’s not over yet.”

 

Castiel cuddled up against him.

 

“Good. I’m not ready for it to end.”

 

Dean kissed him gently, as Castiel leafed through the rest of the book. This time, Dean let him. He kept an eye on their food, and knew when Castiel had gotten to the sexual sketches by the gasp that escaped his lips. He laid the sketchbook down gently, and grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him hard. They spent several happy minutes kissing by the campfire, until Dean could smell burning, and had to pull away to save their meal. They picked at the pot of beans and hot dogs with plastic spoons, trying to avoid the burnt parts and blowing on each mouthful to cool it down before eating. When they finished, Dean put the fire out and they crawled into the tent, zipping their sleeping bags together and snuggling up close. Dean fell asleep with his head on Castiel’s chest, and their arms around each other.


	18. Chapter 18

They had been seeing each other for two months. This time around, it was a little slower, and Dean took his time going back to the events that Castiel needed to attend, although they were often on the phone to each other, talking and texting and sending pictures on snapchat. He had had to admit to Michael that he’d lost the Armani jacket that Michael had given him, but to his relief, Michael had taken the news well.

 

“I got it for you to help Castiel realize what was best for him. It did its job, didn’t it?”

 

Their families were still spending a lot of time together. Gabriel and Sam had really hit it off, beyond Sam overseeing his various business interests, and when Sam wasn’t seeing Boremelia he was invariably with Gabriel, and occasionally Balthazar too. Charlie and Michael had a strange understanding as well, which Dean suspected had something to do with his little sister’s gift with computers and Michael’s sudden knowledge of everything Lucifer had been up to. Dean knew that it wouldn’t be long before his entire family would be offered a place in the Novak mansion. Castiel and Michael had both dropped enough hints, and Dean had been spending nearly all his free time there when he wasn’t working on his latest projects.

 

Tonight, however, Dean was putting on a new tuxedo - Prada this time, Castiel and Michael had both agreed - and waxing his hair into a side parting again. Castiel had said it was important he attend tonight. Dean knew it was a new project, one that Castiel had been suddenly taken with, something that Michael approved of. Castiel was in charge, and it was a big deal, and after two months of money-free dates that mainly consisted of walking around parks and the Novak’s grounds, playing on the Novak’s jet skis and watching trash TV with Charlie in the same room, it was nice to do something for Castiel. To do something that was familiar for him.

 

The stretch limousine was full this time around. Michael and Amara took up the back seat with Charlie, while Gabriel, Balthazar, Sam, and Amelia were squashed on the side seat with Dean and Castiel. The atmosphere could not have been more different to the dates that Dean and Castiel had been on when Castiel was paying him. Everyone was chatting, and laughing, passing each other drinks and generally acting excited for the upcoming evening. Castiel was holding Dean’s arm, leaning his head against Dean’s shoulder, just enjoying the ambience of their families bonding. Dean was watching Charlie and Michael talking quietly between themselves, and turning his head every time Sam barked a laugh from something that Gabriel had said.

 

They pulled up outside an old factory that had apparently been converted recently, though into what, Dean wasn’t sure. Castiel gripped his arm tighter as he rolled through a wave of anxiety, and Dean kissed his temple.

 

“It’s okay, baby,” he breathed. Castiel didn’t seem to hear him. They climbed out of the car before everyone else, and Castiel pulled him to one side as their siblings gathered themselves together.

 

“Don’t be mad.” Castiel began.

 

“Mad? What did you do?”

 

“You’ll see inside. But you have to know … it’s because I see so much worth in you, Dean. Beyond being your boyfriend. I’ve been thinking about the kinds of things I want to do, and talked with my brothers, and one of them made the point that I had kind of already done this, and it made sense to do this as a next step.”

 

Dean wasn’t quite sure what Castiel was babbling about, but he could tell it really mattered.

 

“Cas, it’s okay. Whatever you’ve done in there, whatever this new business is … I mean, hey, the mystery Novak has his own business!”

 

“It’s non-profit.” Castiel corrected.

 

“So? You decided to do something, and not just to boast that you have four castles,” Dean straightened Castiel’s lapels, smoothing them down. “It’s because you care about this. I’m proud of you, whatever’s in there.”

 

Castiel bit his lip as he nodded, and Dean kissed him quickly, before letting Castiel lead him up to the top of the steps in front of the front door. Dean stood with their siblings as Castiel stepped forward, in front of the crowd that had gathered, and the few newspapers in attendance. When he began speaking, his voice was clear, and confident, and Dean knew that no one in the crowd had any idea of his anxiety. Castiel’s speech was short but well paced.

 

“Thank you everyone, for coming tonight. I hope that the gallery lives up to your expectations. A lot of the collection comes from my own personal one, and I intend for it to remain personal for years to come.” He stepped back, feeling for the handles of the doors behind him. “The gallery is now … open!” He pushed the doors backwards behind him, and stepped inside. Amara pushed Dean along, and they all filed into the main lobby, where the statue of Mary Winchester had pride of place. Dean glanced at it, and then looked at Castiel with a raised eyebrow. Castiel smiled back sheepishly, and Dean had a feeling that the statue that brought them together in the first place wasn’t going to be the only work of his on display.

 

As he walked through the rooms on his own, taking his time to examine each piece, he could see a lot of the pieces were ones that until recently had lived in Castiel’s quarters. He turned into a room that was crowded, and was about to head outside again when a sketch caught his eye. It was one of the drawings he had done of Charlie, sealed behind thick glass. To one side was a picture of Sam, to the other, a sketch of the three of them in their childhood. He picked through the room slowly, seeing a lot of the pictures he had traced in his sketchbooks rendered on backing board, blown up three times the size of the original. Interspersed with the drawings were placards discussing Dean’s background, both personal and in the art world. There was even a part about his method.

 

No wonder Castiel thought that he was going to be mad. He should be mad. But he couldn’t bring himself to be. The way that Castiel had put this together, it showed how much they understood each other, and it was nice to think that Castiel had made him such a big part of his first investment. He went back to the main room where he knew Castiel was still greeting new people, welcoming them to the gallery. He waited until Castiel was alone.

 

“Thanks for not putting our personal pictures up in there.”

 

Castiel turned meekly, and Dean smiled reassuringly.

 

“Seriously, Cas, it’s great. Using worthless sketches to build up the story of an artist, that’s pretty cool.”

 

“They’re not worthless … you’re not mad?”

 

“No. I mean, I thought I was going to be, but I get it. You’re going to have to ask the next artist for permission though, I’m not letting you sleep your way through my peers for a chance to appear in your gallery.”

 

Castiel looked relieved.

 

“I have no intentions of doing that. And I’ll compensate you for the use of your sketches.”

 

“You don’t have to do that.”

 

“How does five million dollars sound?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“Castiel, for a billionaire, you’re terrible with money. I mean, you trusted Meg with it before. So no.”

 

“How about you move in with me then?”

 

“Sam, Charlie and I are a package deal.”

 

Castiel smiled warmly.

 

“You didn’t mention Boremelia. I accept.”

 

Dean laughed, and pulled him closer for a kiss.

 

“I will have to check it’s okay with them.”

 

“We will still have my quarters to ourselves, won’t we? There are plenty of other wings they can live in.”

 

“Definitely a deal,” Dean grinned, and kissed him again. They stood there, kissing, for a long time, even as the entrance hall emptied out and the guests looked at all the paintings and sculptures from new and barely-known contemporary artists that Castiel had acquired over the years, as well as his boyfriend’s own sketches. Their siblings had probably already found the champagne, and were possibly going to do wildly inappropriate speeches that neither of them would be present for, or could find it in themselves to care about. It didn’t matter, not at that moment in time, not when they were so lost in each other. Eventually, Castiel broke away, and he smiled as he took Dean’s hand.

 

“I’m going to show you around the gallery. Give you a feel for what I was aiming for. I have to warn you however; there is one artist in particular who features prominently throughout …”


End file.
